


Winterborn

by Azzy_Darling



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Death, Depression, Humiliation, I wrote this in 2004, Incest, M/M, Mutilation, Self-Hatred, seriously dark stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 49,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzy_Darling/pseuds/Azzy_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Maedhros is recovered from the mountain, Curufin, Celegorm and Caranthir want to end this war once and for all. And who knows? Maybe love is stronger than the oath of Fëanor and the darkness of Morgoth. (originally posted at the Library of Moria 2008, written in 2004)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I am the prayers of the naive.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so uploading this old thing, I remember feeling really content when I finished *laughs*, it took me a long time to finish, and I have to ask you to remember that it was written in 2004, and that I am not native English speaking, my writing has come a long way, and hopefully so has my vocabulary and grammar. I decided to upload it cause it had 4223 hits on LoM, so maybe it still holds some relevance. 
> 
> Different chapters are betaed by different people, back then I really struggled to hold on to a betareader, so I would like to acknowledge Lisbet Karlsdottir, Arwen ó Romendor, Miss Wilde, Half Elf Lost, ErestorJunkie - And prolly more people that I forgot, what I remember is having some pretty intense internet fights with people back in those days. Well Lisbet and EJ (asylumfarm) stuck by me, which is awesome. 
> 
> I will stress once more this is written in 2004!! I am most likely guilty of all the terms and phrases that I hate... Oh well, don't tell me you weren't warned.
> 
> The story was finished because Marja Kettner wrote me a bunch of emails, kicking my muse, and thank you for that. 
> 
> See the end notes for chapter related notes.

Amrod stood outside leaning casually against the huge wooden door; this huge door had always somewhat scared him, but he was scared of it even more. He heard pained sobs from inside the room. Ever since his cousin had rescued Maedhros from that cursed mountain, none had seen the high king. He allowed no one but Maglor close, not even servants. And not even his mother!

Fingon had not left; he still lingered in the fortress. Amrod had seen him several times as they had dragged themselves through a supper. The young elf rubbed his nose; he was not old enough to be indulged in the secrets around here. What did they take him for? He could hear his eldest brother's screams at night. He saw Fingon's haunted look in those green eyes. He could hear Curufin and Maglor fight, and see the anger chiselled in Caranthir's face. Yet 'still' they took him for a child.

He had seen a glimpse of his eldest brother when Fingon had carried him into the courtyard, his clothes torn and bloody, and the usually so authoritarian elf hang limply with his eyes closed. He had wanted to see more, and had taken a step closer, but Nerdanel, his mother, had clasped a hand in front of his eyes to spare him the sight.

Maglor hurried through the corridors carrying a tray with some food and bandages. Tonight he would have to try and persuade his brother to let the healer in to tend his wounds and prescribe some treatment. He was no healer, just a minstrel, not trained in this at all. However, if this was what Maedhros wanted, he would grant it to him. He would never in his life let down his beloved brother, not even should he ask him to walk the very dungeons of Angband. And he had to admit that to change dirty bandages was a tad easier than to fight his way into Angband.

Amrod saw his older brother come towards him with hurried steps "Maglor? How does he fare?" he asked his brother as he came to a halt.

"What are you doing here?" Maglor said harshly.

"I...I..." Amrod said. He had no reason to be here at all.

"Tsh... Scatter, Pitya!" Maglor hissed and dismissed him with an angry glare.

"But..." Amrod protested.

Maglor sighed and put down the tray. "He is as could be expected."

Amrod nodded, but couldn't help casting a glance towards the hot soup on the tray. "I should go and make myself ready for supper," he mumbled.

Maglor picked up the tray again, and smiled a strained smile to his baby brother. "I will be there as soon as I am finished here."

"I will let mother know," Amrod said, and took a step away. Suddenly he turned once more, and looked at Maglor. "Will you tell him I was here?"

Maglor raised a brow and asked, "Why?"

"Please?" Amrod said.

"I will tell him you were here Amrod, if it makes you feel better," the elder elf said softly. "Now run along, or you will be late for supper."

"Yes, thank you, Maglor."

Amrod left Maedhros' door and headed towards his own chambers, which he still shared with his twin. There had been a time where they had been inseparable, but this was no longer the case. Amras seemed to take more after Curufin, than Amrod did.

After Fëanor's death, Amras had changed. All he had had in mind was to finish off his oath to their father. Amrod had several times tried to make Amras aware that they had been underage, and therefore not really bound by their father's oath, but Amras would hear nothing of it.

Amrod opened the door to their chambers, but stopped in his steps as he saw Amras was sitting in his own bed, neatly polishing his breastplate. This was not good.

"Amras?" he said with a whisper, "What are you doing?"

Amras looked up at his twin and offered a large grin. "I am preparing myself. Can't you can see that, you oaf?!"

Amrod walked to sit on his brother's bed, looking at the different jars of leather grease and polish he had lined up. "It was not like I thought you were baking sweet cakes Amras," he answered a bit annoyed, "I meant 'why' are you preparing your armour? I have heard nothing of riding out."

"I know," Amras mumbled, "but Curufin said..."

Amrod stood up with a hiss. "Curufin said what?!"

"I swore not to tell you..." Amras whined as he gently laid down his breastplate.

"Don't bother then!" Amrod yelled, "Keep your little secrets with Curufin! See if I care!" The dark-haired twin turned, and opened the door to the corridor.

Amras yelled something behind him, but Amrod didn't turn. He walked as fast as he could towards the large hall where the supper was to be served.

* * *

Nerdanel saw Amrod walk into the room, looking as were he about to blow, she put down her needlework and padded the windowsill next to her. "Oh, Pitya, come and sit child."

Amrod sighed, but walked over to his mother and sat down. Instinctively, he reached for her hand in need of some support. "I tried to see Maedhros today," he whispered.

"And what happened?" she said, and stroked her sons hand lovingly.

"Maglor caught me, and..." Amrod said.

"As much as I know you love your brother, I don't think that having Maglor dismiss you can leave you in such a state." she said softly. "Now tell me, what is really amiss, my little one?"

"It is Amras..." Amrod whined. "He and Curufin have a secret, and I don't think any good will come of it."

Nerdanel sighed. "Curufin has a will of his own, and Amras is full of courage."

"But mother, you cannot let them do this," Amrod whispered as he looked up at his mother. "I think they are riding to battle soon."

The female elf sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I cannot stop them my little star," she finally whispered.

Amrod hung his head and nodded slightly. "I know mother," he whispered back.

* * *

Caranthir and Celegorm was the first to come to the great table. Caranthir was visibly nervous, but as soon as Curufin and Amras entered he straightened up with a faint smile. Amrod walked their mother to the table, and sat down himself. He looked over at Amras, not saying a word, and quickly looked away again. He knew what was going on, and he was not a part of it.

Then Maglor entered together with Fingon, who still lingered in these halls, even though his cousin would not see him at all. Fingon seated himself on the same side as Amrod, as he nodded to the young elf in a greeting.

Curufin suddenly stood up. "Mother! There is something we need to tell you," he said loudly.

Amrod looked over at Maglor but the elder elf didn't seem to notice; he just looked up at Curufin. This was bad indeed.

"My brothers and I have decided that we should linger no longer; we will finish what father started once and for all," he said. "We will ride to Menegroth and retrieve the stone that Dior inherited from Elu Thingol."

Caranthir, Celegorm, and Amras nodded in unison, and Curufin continued, "We shall avenge father and Maedhros."

Now Maglor suddenly raised his voice, "He's not dead yet, he needs no vengeance!" he spat.

"I am sure Curufin did not mean to imply that..." Celegorm suddenly said.

"I can't remember asking for your opinion brother!" Maglor said venomously.

Celegorm paled but said no more. Amrod was just looking at Curufin and Maglor who now both stood up and leaned across the table, glaring at each other.

"What are you saying Maglor? Would you deprive us from avenging the foul deeds that happened upon our eldest brother? Or are you saying that we should not uphold Father's oath!" Curufin yelled.

"I am saying that getting yourself killed over something like this is folly..." Maglor hissed back.

"That was the risk we all knew was in it, Maedhros knew it, and you know it," Curufin roared.

"Didn't you hear him Curufin? Maedhros is not dead; do not speak as if he were!" Finrod suddenly yelled. He received an icy glare from Curufin, and Amrod hurried to pull the distraught elf back into his seat with a firm hold on his shoulder.

"Curufin, do not do this, do not go into battle fuelled on anger and vengeance," Maglor said with a softer voice.

"If we should not venture into battle with hate in our hearts, then tell me brother mine, what should I feel for those I kill?" Curufin said equally soft.

Maglor didn't answer; all he did was to sigh, before he suddenly slammed his fist down into the table. "How many pyres will mother have to light before it is enough for you?" He then looked over at Nerdanel. "Mother I beg you, forbid them from leaving."

Now the hall was dead quiet, and Nerdanel slowly took a sip of her glass before she answered, "He is right, Maglor."

"But mother..." Maglor sighed.

"It is final," she whispered.

Maglor turned to Curufin in one last desperate attempt. "Are you really ready to once more slay your own kin?" Upon seeing Amras paling, he continued, "Yes, little Russa, do you really believe Dior will hand you the cursed gem on a silver plate?"

"Silence brother!" Curufin suddenly yelled, "You heard mother; it is final – we ride at dawn."

Maglor shook his head and looked pleadingly at their mother, but she just stared back with a stern face, and the tall elf finally sat down with a broken sigh. "If this is really your will mother, I will ask it of you, could I stay behind to nurse Maedhros?"

Nerdanel nodded, and looked to Curufin who also sat down with a smile. "We will miss you Maglor, you are a brave warrior."

Maglor shook his head.

Amrod looked over at Curufin as well, but the elder elf just shook his head. "No, Pitya, you will stay here with mother, Maglor and Maedhros."

Amrod's face reddened from anger and he clenched his fists, but stayed still.

"I am not leaving Maedhros' side till I know if he will survive," Fingon said.

"We will manage, though I must admit I had wished you would come along, if not for your pledge to Fëanor, then to avenge the ill fortune of my older brother," Curufin said.

Fingon shook his head, "Nay, I will stay behind with the rest."

"So be it," Curufin said and looked at their mother. "Mother, do we have your blessing?"

Amrod noticed the sorrowful gaze Nerdanel gave Curufin and his brothers next to him. "Yes," she eventually said, "You have my blessing. May the Valar see the urgency in your hearts, bless it, and return you all safe to me."

* * *


	2. I am the truth from which you run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been doing some thinking, and when I said I'd keep to canon where I could, I lied *laughs* - I will have to fuck up the time line big time... And I have been thinking of adding yet another pairing, but you guys will just have to wait and see... and once again I will warn for character death in the story. Just to relax you it will only be side characters but still, I thought I let you know in case anybody got offended - now don't nitpick! I warned you.

After the supper, they had all split up in an odd silence; Amrod had gone to his chambers, not knowing where else to go, but absolutely sure he wanted to stay clear of Maglor and Curufin.

"Amrod please wait!" he heard Amras call. He turned and looked at his twin, before crossing his arms, waiting for an explanation, glaring.

"I am sorry I couldn't tell you. I had promised Curufin," Amras said. "He knew that Maglor would react like this... and..."

"He was afraid babyfinwë would run and tell his big brother, right?" Amrod said with a hurt expression.

"Yes..." Amras whispered.

"And you, you agreed with him, didn't you?"

Amras said nothing, but reached out and caressed Amrod's cheek. "Forgive me, but he made me promise."

Amrod just let out an offended snort and made a little toss with his head.

"Don't be mad at me, please Amrod?" Amras pleaded, grabbing a hold on Amrod's shoulder.

"Why shouldn't I?" Amrod sneered. "You are leaving me here with the minstrels, cripples and women!"

"Oh, Amrod..." Amras whispered, and moved in to embrace his twin. "That is not how it is..."

"Well then, master of explanations... Pray tell, what is it then?" Amrod said, his voice thick of childish offence.

"It is just that..." Amras started as he leaned in and rested his head on Amrod's shoulder, "I am sure Curufin has a perfectly sound explanation for it, Pitya."

All of Amrod's defences crumbled, and he in return wrapped his arms around his twin. "I wish you would stay as well..." he whispered. "I am afraid something will happen to you. You heard Maglor, Dior will not give up the Silmaril that easy."

"Nothing will happen, my heart," Amras whispered. "We will be back before you know it."

Amrod shook his head in refusal. "No Amras." He took a step back, and cupped his twin's face in his hands "Do not lie; you are not good at it."

Amras smiled and closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of his twin resting his forehead against his. "Please stay with me tonight."

"There is nowhere else I would rather be," Amrod whispered. "Tell me honestly, Russa, are you afraid?"

"Yes," Amras admitted and smiled as Amrod kissed his brow.

"I will pray for you," Amrod said softly.

"Thank you," Amras said and ran his fingers through Amrod's midnight hued hair, biting down his emotions so as not to cry.

"Come, sweet Russa, let us finish polishing your sword and armour so Curufin won't have your head in the morning."

Amras smiled and let his brother lead him down the corridor.

* * *

Maglor stepped inside the dark room, he walked slowly over and sat down at Maedhros' side "Curufin is leaving tomorrow. He wishes to retrieve the last gem from Menegroth. They will 'die' Maitimo," he whispered to the silent form in the bed.

He took Maedhros' arm stump and slowly peeled off the bandages, a foul stench reeked from the wound. "Can you hear me, Maitimo? Your wounds are infected. I cannot treat this; I don't know how to do it! Oh please, let a healer see you." He reached for a cloth and dipped it in some water that stood on the floor, and tenderly began to wash his brother's wounds. "Please answer me..." he whispered.

Maedhros let out a muffled scream as Maglor rubbed a little harder on the torn flesh and bone. "I am sorry brother; a healer would be much more painless." Maglor rested his hand on Maedhros hip and gently squeezed the bone there. "I beg you to let the healer attend to you."

"No..." came the slurred reply.

Maglor removed his hand from Maedhros hip and began to wrap the remains of his brother's arm once more. "As you wish," he whispered.

Once he finished, he wet the cloth once more. "Roll unto your back please," he said and Maedhros did so with a pitiful sound. "I am sorry but I need to wash the wounds here as well," he smiled at his elder brother and started to wash the torn skin on the chest. "You know what? It seems folly to me that Fingon rescues you from the clutches of the fallen one, only to have you die in your own bed from stubbornness."

Maedhros turned his head, and only the little tremors of the chest gave away that he was crying. Maglor stopped washing is brother and instead reached up to caress his cheek. "He is still here, waiting for you to get well. Curufin tried to get rid of him, but he won't budge." When there came no reply, Maglor ran his hand over the filthy red tresses. "Maitimo... he loves you dearly, enough to risk his own life to rescue you when all others had given up. Even I never thought we would find you alive." He paused to wipe some of Maedhros' tears away. "Why won't you see him?"

"No..." Maedhros whispered.

"But why?" Maglor pleaded, "He can mend your spirit, just as the healer can mend your body, I will not have you fading in your own sheets, Maedhros."

"I said no!" Maedhros said louder.

"As you wish," Maglor whispered back. "I just wish you would change your mind."

* * *

When Maglor had drifted off, he didn't know, but he woke in a chair in Maedhros chamber, his brother was still sleeping, but then he heard a noise outside the door, it was crying.

"Maitimo?" the voice whispered.

Maglor recognised Fingon's voice, and noticed Maedhros stir on the bed, be he himself stayed still, hoping they would not know he was there.

"Please answer me my love..." Fingon whispered and leaned against the door "Why won't you answer me?"

Maglor saw Maedhros roll to his back and in the moonlight he saw his brother clench his jaw and close his eyes, and for some insane reason he couldn't help but to think that he was lucky that they had not poked out his eyes.

"I miss you by my side my love, I wake up every morning expecting you to be there, and each morning I cry realising you are not," Fingon sobbed softly against the wooden door. "I wish I knew why Maglor looks so worried, I wish you would let me in and let me hold you."

Maedhros wrapped his remaining arm around his chest in a clumsy move as he began to cry harder "No, not like this..." he whispered.

"Please do not send me from your side like this," Fingon whispered. "I love you."

Maglor felt tears slide down his own cheeks as his heart went out to them both, and he wished he could slap some sense into his brother. Even now, reduced to a cripple, the eldest son of Fëanor had so much pride that it was slowly killing both his body and soul.

Maedhros had curled up as much as possible, and the quiet sobs form outside the door had subsided some, then Maglor decided he would leave. He opened the door slowly and stepped out in the hall.

"Maitimo?" Fingon whispered as he hopefully looked up.

"Nay, I am afraid it is only me, Maglor." He answered and lent the elf on the floor a hand to rise. "Come let us get you to your own bed; the floor is no comfortable place to spend the night."

"D-did you h-hear?" Fingon whispered.

"Yes," Maglor whispered as he slowly led his cousin down the corridor. "Your secret is safe with me. Don't fret cousin."

"I don't know where to begin to thank you cousin," Fingon whispered back.

"You could start with getting a good night's rest," Maglor said with a reassuring smile. "Tomorrow I will ask the healer to make me a sleeping draught more for you, so you can sleep without troubles."

Fingon came to a halt in front of his door. "Maglor? Would you tell me the truth? How does he fare?"

Maglor reached behind Fingon and pushed the door open "The truth? He is fading, Fingon," he said with a hushed voice.

"No!" Fingon gasped. "But he is safe and he..."

"I know, but I fear they broke his spirit..." Maglor whispered as he gently pushed Fingon inside his chambers and closed the door. "Cousin, you cannot come to his doorstep again; it is too dangerous."

Fingon looked down at the floor and nodded. "But I just don't know what else to do. If I cannot see him, I will surely go insane from worry and heartbreak."

"Fingon! It is important that you listen to me," Maglor said a bit harsher than he intended. "Should anyone find this out you are in a lot of trouble." He paused and grabbed his cousin's shoulders. "You know the punishment for such activities."

Fingon nodded in dark understanding. "I will not jeopardize us both like that again."

"Good." Maglor said. "Now if there is anything you wish for me to bring him, I can do so, I cannot promise he will look at it, nor listen to me, but I promise to try."

Fingon nodded and pulled off his finger ring with the weapon shield from the house of Fingolfin. "Please give him this."

Maglor took the silver ring and slid it in his pocket. "I will." He nodded to his cousin. "Now let us rest before tomorrow comes."

"Yes," Fingon said and stifled a yawn.

 


	3. I am the hate you try to hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right the first extreme fuck up. Canon wise all three of the brothers perish in Doriath, and should the prisoner. But not in my fic *smiles* - as to the Quenya names I figured a mother (as I actually am one, and also have one) will when they lash out in anger at their children use their full name. And in this situation their Quenya names; Kanafinwë« is Maglor's father chosen name and it means strong-voiced-finwë«. Morifinwë« is Caranthir's father chosen name and that means dark-finwë«, I should say it means dark in mind rather in appearance tho'. Aegnor and Angrod are Finarfin's sons (Galadriel's brothers) just in case you guys got somewhat confused. At my homepage you can find a family tree of all the house of Finwë« if you need it, look under this fic's opening page.

**(3 years later)**  
  
Maglor had in the end went against his brother's wishes, and sent for a healer. But, he was quite sure that Maedhros had not even noticed, for by then the fever had raged through his body. The bandages had long since been discarded of, and his body had mended leaving only scars. But his soul had not. This morning was a grey autumn morning, and the household had been eating a breakfast, Nerdanel looked worn and Amrod looked lost. Maglor wished that his brothers had never gone on that stupid mission. Fingon still remained, refusing to give up. But Maglor had seen the sullen expression on his cousin's face, and knew in his heart that he would not stay another winter. For Maedhros still denied access to his chambers to all, nor did he come to dinners. For what it was worth Maglor knew that he had a hard time feeding himself, and it was not a pretty sight either, since he only had four remaining teeth. Forty nights ago, Maglor had asked the smith if it was possible to make something for teeth, but the smith had said that he needed to take measures of the king in order to make the prostheses fit. Maedhros had said that he did not want them or the smith in his chambers, end of discussion. And it was beginning to get to Maglor, that Maedhros refused all who loved him and all help he could get. He certainly inherited his pride in direct line from their father.  
  
Amrod was talking with Fingon about firewood, now that winter was coming. And everything seemed normal, until a horn sounded.  
  
Nerdanel had nearly fallen off her chair and Maglor had himself recognised that horn. "It's them!" she said, and got up from her chair and in a most undignified manner. She ran towards the main entrance to greet her sons, and Amrod was in hot pursuit.  
  
Maglor and Fingon were a bit more reserved, but walked towards the door as well.  
  
They all stepped outside in the grey moist morning, and Amrod dropped all formality and ran towards the horses that entered the courtyard. "Russa, Russa!" he yelled and from the other side a mess of red hair ran jumped down from his horse and ran to his twin. "Oh, Pitya!" he cried as he flung himself around the neck of his long missed twin.  
  
Maglor looked at the riders and came to a halt next to his mother. "So few..." she whispered. "Where are Curufin and Celegorm?"  
  
Caranthir stopped his horse not far from the pair and jumped off as well, bringing a dark haired huddled figure by a chain. "Mother, Maglor." he said as he bowed slightly.  
  
"Where are Curufin and Celegorm?" Nerdanel asked with tears already welling up in her eyes.  
  
"I am afraid they perished mother..." Caranthir said and looked uncomfortably sad. He handed the huddled prisoner to a soldier and walked up in front of his mother and embraced her. "They were given a pyre of kings," he whispered.  
  
Maglor raked a hand through his hair in lack of other things to do. "What did I tell him? What was it I told him? And you let them go mother!"  
  
"Kanafinwë! How dare you?" Nerdanel cried and slapped her son hard.  
  
The tall elf looked surprised. "Are you proud of yourself now, Morifinwë!" he hissed and pointed at Caranthir.  
  
"But we tried to..." Caranthir said. "I never thought that..."  
  
"I know my son," Nerdanel whispered and clung to her other son.  
  
Amrod and Amras came back to the rest of their family. "Mother..." Amras said, and smiled sadly, before he received a similar treatment, being buried in a warm embrace from his mother.  
  
Fingon stood there and looked at the family, and the more he saw the more he was sure that Fëanor had cast a curse on them all. He saw two of Finarfin's sons walk towards them, and he nodded towards them as they nodded back.  
  
Aegnor was the first to reach him. "Cousin Fingon, it is a long time since I laid eyes on you. I wish we could have met again under happier circumstances."  
  
"Indeed," Fingon said and smiled weakly. "Well met, Aegnor and Angrod."  
  
Angrod smiled back, "Well met, cousin."  
  
Maglor now came and stood beside Fingon, and he too greeted his cousins. "Come, let us have a warm drink," he offered. "You must be cold and weary upon the long ride."  
  
They both nodded, and went inside with Maglor, leaving the rest of the house of Fëanor outside.  
  
Once inside, they sat down and let a servant come with the warm wine. "So pray tell," Maglor suddenly said in a taunting tone, "Did you get it?"  
  
"Get what?" Aegnor asked and took a sip of his wine.  
  
"The cursed gem," Maglor said.  
  
Angrod let his glass fall from his lips and looked at his brother. "No..." Aegnor said. "No, it is lost for now."  
  
"Lost? What do you mean lost?"  
  
"I fear this is for the high king's ears only, Maglor," Angrod said with a strange unreadable facial expression.  
  
"The high king is indisposed," Fingon whispered and Maglor nodded.  
  
"Fingon is right, he still has not emerged from his chambers," Maglor said. While he secretly cringed at this sentence, he couldn't help but be amused by is cousins facial expressions. "So while Maedhros is ill, I should say I am the eldest, ergo it is my business."  
  
"Very well," Aegnor said and leaned closer to Maglor. "A servant and the king's daughter escaped, and with them they carried, you guessed it... The blasted gem."  
  
Maglor sighed. "As much as I disagreed with my brothers on this mission, I must say it grieves my heart to learn they have lost their lives for nothing."  
  
"Not exactly nothing," Angrod said with a proud look. "After the fight, we found one of the elves there to be alive, just barely, but still breathing."  
  
"And?" Maglor whispered.  
  
"Well we took him with us, and after the ceremony for Celegorm and Curufin we had a healer look at the prisoner," Angrod continued. "He turned out to not just be an elf."  
  
"I think you lost me, I am afraid I do not understand," Fingon said as he sipped to his now lukewarm wine.  
  
"Caranthir believes him to be one of King Dior's sons," Aegnor said with a huge smile.  
  
"Has he confirmed this?" Maglor asked.  
  
"No, not really," Aegnor said, "but we will get it out of him, and if Caranthir is right, then perhaps he would know where his sister went."  
  
"Let us pray he is right, and my brothers did not die in vain," Maglor said as he finished his wine.  
  


* * *

  
  
Night had crept up on the house of Fëanor, and all guests had been shown to guestrooms for a long rest in a real bed. Amrod and Amras wouldn't move more than five feet apart, and once at their chambers Amras picked up and odd-looking instrument. "What is this device?" he said.  
  
"It is a lyre?" Amrod said with a laugh.  
  
"What does it do?" Amras chuckled and turned the strange instrument in his hands.  
  
"Make music, you imbecile," Amrod said as he snatched his lyre from his brother.  
  
"Play for me, will you?" Amras said and smiled sweetly.  
  
"Yes if you will tell me who the prisoner was," Amrod teased as he stuck out his tongue at his brother.  
  
"Caranthir believes him to be one of King Dior's sons," Amras whispered, "Now play..."  
  
Amrod nodded and started to play a soft tune for his brother.  
  
"I miss them, Curufin and Celegorm; it is strange not having them around," Amras whispered as he laid himself flat on his back. "Poor mother, now she will have to wear a grief veil once more."  
  
Amrod stopped his music. "Yes," he said, and put down the lyre. "Russa?"  
  
"Yes?" Amras mumbled already half asleep.  
  
"I was so afraid it was you who would not come home," he admitted and stoked the long dark red hair of his twin. "This place has been like a tomb while you were gone..."  
  
When Amras didn't answer, Amrod took it he was sleeping, and for some time he just sat there and looked at his brother, until he decided to go take a look at this prisoner of theirs. It had been such a long time since the dungeon had been used, not since their father had been alive.


	4. I am the pusher; I am the whore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Righties... Makalaure is the mother chosen name for Maglor, just so you know. And it is actually true that Maglor became high king for a while. And Nerwende is no other than Galadriel, this is her quenyan name, she was not called Galadriel until much later. I read a fic that stated that Maedhros stronghold was Hithlum, this is not the case, Hithlum is the land where Fingolfin's castle is (and Fingon's too) - where we are in this fic is Himring, the strong hold of Maedhros, located in Himlad *smiles* enough preaching, on with the story.

Amrod stood outside the cell for some time, until with a voice no higher than a whisper, he said, "Can you hear me?"   
  
It seemed like a stupid question, but he didn't know what else to say. He studied the huddled prisoner in the shadows. At the sound of his voice, however soft, he saw to his regret the dark form twitch. Not that Amrod could blame him; after all, he was a prisoner. Amrod stepped closer to the bars, observing the other elf. "Is there anything you need? Are you hungry? Wet? Hurt?"   
  
The prisoner just pulled his knees further up under his chin, and didn't answer. Amrod was confused; he was trying to help, and still this dim-witted prisoner refused to answer.  
  
At the other end of the corridor, Amrod heard two guards talking. As the noise came closer towards him he sighed. "I wish there was some way I could help, but apparently not." Then he turned, and hurried out of the corridor with the cells to each side. He couldn't risk getting caught down here. As he hurried out from the depressing surroundings, he had never been happier about his own fortune; He got to go to a soft bed and his loving family. He wondered if the prisoner had ever had that. As he reached the living quarters, he swiftly hurried down to his own chamber.  
  
Opening the door he smiled at Amras lying on his back on his bed, humming in his sleep. He was fortunate indeed. But the picture of the pitiful elf wouldn't disappear as he lay down in his bed. He swore to himself he had to find a way to help this poor elf.  
  


* * *

  
  
Maglor whistled a merry tune as he walked from the kitchen. He was heading up towards Maedhros room to feed him the morning meal, but after all this was a beautiful spring morning; even his sullen brother could not deny that.  
  
He opened the door, and he smiled at Maedhros who stood leaning against the windowsill. "Maitimo", he said as he dashed across the room. "This is indeed a fine morn is it not?"  
  
"Yes," Maedhros answered, "Makalaure?"  
  
"What?" Maglor said with a smile. It had been so long since his brother had called him by his mother's name; this was proof to him that Maedhros was getting better.  
  
"Why are you taking care of me?"  
  
Maglor sat down the tray with a dull bump. "You are my king, and my beloved brother! Why should I not care for you?" he answered.  
  
"No Makalaurë, I am not. It is I who should bow to you" Maedhros said as he slowly moved towards his bed. Maglor noticed the effort it took and the lengths his brother went to not to show his pain.  
  
"Do not say such," Maglor said softly, as he sat down on the bed and waited with the warm oatmeal. "Now come and eat some food."  
  
"I am serious Maglor," the king panted, as he sat down on the bed. "You have been carrying out my chores for over three years now." He turned and looked at Maglor with a smile. "It is only fair that you should get to wear the crown."  
  
"No!" Maglor gasped. "Don't even think that; you are soon well and then you need your crown" he held out a spoon with oatmeal for his brother.  
  
Maedhros opened his mouth and swallowed the hot food looking utterly displeased. "I will accept were it only for a little while..." Maglor finally said.  
  
Maedhros smiled a wide smile, which had once been brilliant, but now it scared his face instead. To Maglor it was a direct insult of the fair features of his brother. "Thank you," Maedhros said.  
  
"But," Maglor said, "I will only do this if you agree to let the smith measure up for the prostheses."  
  
After some moments of silence the red-haired elf nodded. "I will allow that then."  
  
"Thank you so much," Maglor said as he handed his brother yet another spoonful of oatmeal.  
  


* * *

  
  
Aegnor sat and read in a book as he noticed Fingon walk past. His cousin looked so haunted, in some strange way he seemed as if he was not really there at all. "Fingon?"  
  
Fingon turned and watched his cousin. "Good morning Aegnor."  
  
"You look troubled cousin," Aegnor said as he put away the book. "You should rejoice, and not fret."  
  
"Why should I rejoice?" Fingon said puzzled, but walked closer to his blond cousin.  
  
"It is so long since we last met; we were but children the last time." Aegnor said softly, observing his raven-haired cousin waver between running and sitting down. "Remember?"  
  
Fingon smiled. "Yes I do."  
  
"Remember how our sisters made our life's miserable back then?" Aegnor chuckled.  
  
"Oh yes indeed, those two miserable wrenches." Fingon laughed softly as he finally sat down opposite Aegnor at the table by the window.  
  
"How is she?" Aegnor suddenly said, "Aredhel, I mean."  
  
"I do not know; she went to live with our brother Turgon, and I have not seen her since, but rumours have it she is married," Fingon said resting his head in his palms, looking at his cousin.  
  
"I heard that as well," Aegnor said, "I heard her marriage was blessed with a child."  
  
"Oh?" Fingon said and raised a brow. "I have not heard this; where did you get this information?"  
  
"It does not matter..." Aegnor said.  
  
Fingon frowned. "What are you keeping from me?"  
  
"I... eh... I do not think it's wise for me to tell you all I hear?" Aegnor said and reached for his tea. "They are but rumours you know."  
  
"Tell me anyway," Fingon said, hating the pleasing tone that had suck into his voice. "She is my sister after all."  
  
The blond nodded. "I heard the elf she married is of a strange kind that prefers night to day, and that he keeps her locked up underground."  
  
Fingon paled. "Her? But she always loved nature..."  
  
"This is but a rumour, as I said, I do not know about its validity." Aegnor reached in over the table and gently touched Fingon's arm. "I am sure they are just vicious mumblings of those who are envious, cousin."  
  
Fingon nodded slowly. "I pray you are right."  
  
For some time both elf lords just sat and looked at each other, until Fingon raised his voice above a mumble. "Was that your reason to join the party to Doriath?"  
  
"You should not even be thinking this Fingon..." Aegnor said with a warning edge to his otherwise soft words.  
  
"Maybe not dear cousin, but nevertheless I am. So, did you?" Fingon said and leaned in over the table to whisper, "Did you go there to spare your sister’s beloved?"  
  
"Fingon," Aegnor hissed. "Don't!"  
  
"You did just that. See, I know that Nerwen went to Menegroth, and I know she found love there." He paused and licked his lips slowly, "I even know his name."  
  
Aegnor paled. "I did no such thing."  
  
Fingon sat back in his chair and smiled at his ghostly pale cousin. "So how is your sister, my dear cousin? Did she marry and get blessed with children?"  
  
"N-no," Aegnor stammered, watching Fingon closely. "Not that I heard of, and I would surely have been invited for such a feast."  
  
"Oh, I see," Fingon said venomously, as he rested his fingertips on his lower lip. "I suspect you are right, for she is a true lady of pure intentions and demeanour, right?" He did a little insulted toss with his head. "It's not like her to run off and birth some half-breed offspring. Forgive me, I should have known better, Aegnor."  
  
Aegnor hung his head and nodded. "Understood, cousin."  
  
"Good," Fingon said softly with a smile. "Never speak thus of my sister again."  
  
The blond nodded. "Forgive me, I did not mean to imply that..."  
  
"My sister was promiscuous?" Fingon added.  
  
"I never said that!" Aegnor gasped.  
  
Both elves looked at each other, until Fingon got up from his char and bid his cousin a fond day, walking off towards his chambers.


	5. I am the need you have for more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... Celebrimbor is actually canonwise Curufin's son, Tolkien never gives an explanation to his mother... the baby just kinda pops up as far as I know. And I just couldn't resist to add a little elfling, with all the angst going on here. More elflings to come tho'.

Maglor was trying to get used to the crown being on his head; it seemed too big and uncomfortable, and as heavy as if the world was on his shoulders. He had spent all day discussing with Caranthir and Maedhros' advisors; most of these advisors were from when their father was alive. Maglor had felt them all corner him on the matter of the prisoner. Caranthir wanted to start interrogating the elf now. But Maglor knew what Caranthir meant with interrogations; it did not involve tea and a chat in the garden, and what his brother had in mind just seemed so beastly, violent and wrong.

But all the advisors had screamed and yelled about Fëanor and his heritage, and that he owed this to his brothers as well. And he had given in; he had signed the papers giving Caranthir free hands with the prisoner. Maglor felt an icy feeling grip his stomach; he couldn't believe he had done just that, the poor elf, he was not even at the twins’ age, and Caranthir would submit him to things Maglor didn't even want to know existed, that poor child. But on the other hand he knew it was right, they did need to know where Dior's daughter had escaped to. He suddenly understood why Maglor loathed his title so.

He had not even heard Fingon come until the other elf laid his hands on his shoulders and started to massage the tense muscles. "Ah, thank you dear cousin."

"Anything for my king," Fingon teased.

Maglor laughed, a hollow laughter, as he laid back his head to look at the other elf. "How come you seek me out here, in this secluded spot? Can I help you with something?"

"No, you can't help me," Fingon said with a sad sigh and sat down next to the king. "I am leaving Himring." He paused and looked away. "I've lingered here long enough."

"Oh, Fingon..." Maglor whispered. "I- I- I am sorry..."

"Leave that to me, Maglor. You have been a true friend, but... I can't live like this," Fingon said pulling his leg up so his chin rested on his knees. "Nothing will change his mind, I suspect."

Maglor wrapped an arm around his distressed cousin. "I am afraid not. I really tried, Fingon..." He used his free hand to take his crown off, tossing it to the ground, before leaning up against his cousin's frame. "I have prayed that he would listen."

"It's as I feared then..." Fingon whispered. "His heart is dead to me."

"Don't say that," Maglor whispered back. "He is just hurt and confused, perhaps if we--"

"You know?" Fingon cut in, "When he smiled at me the first time, smiled that special smile, only for me... I had never seen anybody that marvellous... He was grand – no he was... larger than life."

Maglor heard the suppressed tears in Fingon's voice and begun to soothingly caress his cousin's hair.

Fingon continued without looking at Maglor. "When he told me that he desired me, I thought the ground would swallow me whole. To think something this magnificent had noticed me, let alone wanted to let me kiss him. We knew it was dangerous, but we were so self-assured in our love that we did not care, until he was taken away..." Fingon's voice shivered with sorrow as he allowed his tears to flow. "He never once promised me something, so that he is to reject me now... Is..." He looked at Maglor for the first time. "You will never leave his side, will you?"

"No," Maglor said, "that I promise."

"That will be my comfort then. When I cannot stay by his side, I will be at peace knowing that you will be," Fingon whispered.

"It should be you who is by his side, not me..." Maglor said, feeling tears of his own sting his eyes.

"No, sweet cousin, he does not wish for me to be there," Fingon said, upon seeing the distress on his beloved's brother's face. He smiled sadly, and caressed Maglor's cheek. "It's nobody's fault."

Maglor smiled back. "I just wish that he was not this stubborn." He sighed and rested his forehead against his cousin’s. "I guess I hoped that he would look at one of your gifts, or listen to your whispers. And as long as you stayed, there would be hope that he would..." Maglor drifted off, not finding the words for his feeling, but the look Fingon gave him showed him his cousin understood.

 

That evening, Maglor went into his brother chamber and sat down on the bed. "Maitimo?"

Maedhros mumbled half asleep.

"Fingon approached me today in the gardens, and he told me he is leaving for home," Maglor said watching his brother closely. "Do you wish to see our cousin before he leaves?"

"You are the king now, there is no need for me to be present," he said slightly annoyed at being woken.

"What if I told you he wanted you present?" Maglor said, knowing too well he was grasping at straws, but it broke his heart to see them both so miserable.

"Let me sleep..." Maedhros sneered.

"But..."

"Leave me!" Maedhros hissed, and pulled the cover over his head.

"As you wish..." the younger brother mumbled and rose from the bed. "But you are making a big mistake Maedhros."

"But one of many, little brother. Now leave me in peace."

"Good night then," Maglor said and left the room, choosing to ignore the heart-wrenching sob he heard from behind the door.

 

Before the sun rose and all of Himring was sleeping, a figure hurried over the plains outside its gates, carrying a bundle of cloths. The guards who should have been alert were sitting in their enclosure having some warm herb tea, trying to stay awake at these grey hours just before the sun broke.

The woman with the bundle made it to the large gates and laid down the bundle. She quickly stepped away as were she reconsidering, but after a minute she turned and ran back the way she had come.

 

Later the same morning, Fingon was standing in the stables together with Aegnor and Angrod. They had said they would follow the path for a short distance towards their own home. And right now they were all saddling their horses making sure all the provisions where there.

Maglor, Caranthir, Amras and Amrod had come to the stables as well to see their cousins off.

"I hope that the next time we see each other it will be under happier circumstances," Caranthir said.

"So do we all," Angrod said with a sad smile.

"I hope everything is satisfactory..." Maglor said.

"Oh, it's perfect," Fingon said, and patted his friend on the shoulder. "I could feed an entire army off the lembas given to me by your mother."

Amrod laughed. "You won't be saying that after you have lived off them for a month."

"You speak wisely, Pitya!" Angrod laughed. "I never liked them either."

"I will go and make sure the gates are opened," Amras said and left the gathering in the stables.

He went over to the gates on the other side of the main courtyard and stuck his head into the guards in the enclosure. "Are you awake in there?"

"Yes, lord Amras," two sleepy voices replied.

"Very well," Amras said with a merry tone. "I need the gates to open."

"Yes, lord Amras, right away," a guard said, and went over to the lever system that would make the huge gates open wide. Amras stood and watched the gate swing open on its large iron hinges until he suddenly saw something. If the doors kept opening it would hit whatever it was. "Stop, do not open the gate further!" he yelled, but the gate was making such a noise no one heard him. He decided to run and pick up the strange bundle.

He grabbed it, and walked back into the courtyard peeling off the cloth. His eyes widened when he saw two large dark blue eyes staring back up at him. "An elfling?!" he gasped. "This cannot be!"

Just at this second, the rest of the family came out from the stables. Finrod, Aegnor and Angrod high on horses and the rest walking beside. "Maglor? I think I found something..." Amras said in an oddly stiff voice as were he about to be bitten by a viper.

Maglor walked over to his brother, and looked down in the cloths "An elfling?! Where on earth did you find this?"

"Right outside the gates," Amras said, still mesmerised by the eyes of the infant. "Had I not grabbed it, the gates would have crushed it."

"Who is insane enough to leave an infant there? And..." Amrod said hurrying over to his brother's.

"It seems to have a message attached..." Amras said, prying out a mashed piece of paper from the cloths.

"Go hand over this infant to mother. She has held them before, and will surely know what to do. We will see our cousins off, and then join you to read the note," Maglor said, looking at Amras.

Amras nodded in understanding and left.

"Most strange..." said Fingon from his horse.

"Indeed," answered Maglor.

"Write me and when you solve the mystery."

"I promise," Maglor said with a smile. "Farewell, cousins, and let there not be too many years until we next see each other, and let there be song and dance."

"And wine." Aegnor chuckled.

"A plenty!" Amrod laughed.

And with that, the three elf lords set out from Himring. Only one of them looked over his shoulder, but sadly turned in his saddle again, not seeing what he had wished.

 

Nerdanel starred at the child. "What a beautiful child..." she mumbled, and rocked it slowly. The baby slowly closed its eyes savouring the close human contact it had been without for hours. "Now read me the letter, my son," Nerdanel said and looked at Amras.

Maglor, Amrod and Caranthir came into the room that very moment, so Amras started to read.

When he stopped, everyone was looking absolutely confused. "Curufin? Curufin had a baby?" Amrod whispered, stunned.

"Well technically, it had to be his wife who had it," Amras said, and pushed his brother playfully.

"Show off!" Amrod hissed back, and then looked up at Maglor. "But I didn't know Curufin was married..."

"He wasn't," Caranthir said, and sat down with a strained sigh. "She must really have wanted a child."

"Yes..." Maglor said, "This is most strange. She must have chosen to be impregnated without Curufin knowing it, and the Valar must have granted her that."

"But..." Amrod mumbled looking from Caranthir to Maglor and back again.

"Why would she then leave it here?" Amras said. "I mean if she wanted it so much."

"That, my sweet little brother, I am afraid we will never know," Maglor said, and ruffled Amras' hair teasingly.

"His name is Celebrimbor," Nerdanel suddenly said. "He is not an it."

"Forgive us mother," Caranthir said. "We are not used to wee ones."

Maglor stood for a minute and watched Nerdanel holding the sleeping infant. "He will stay here, I see it already. He is lifting mother's spirit." He smiled at Nerdanel. "Would you wish to raise yet another infant?"

Nerdanel smiled back at her son. "I think Celebrimbor decided that for me."

"Then its final, he shall stay here as one of us, in honour of his father," Maglor said. "I will have a stone raised next to father's memory stone, for our lost brothers, so his son will have somewhere to go and see the earthly memory of his own father."

The three other brothers nodded in unison, and thus the household gained yet another elf.


	6. I am denial, guilt, and fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this is the father/son chappy... one of them... I hereby warned you! Total freakyness...
> 
> (I listened to Korn, so shoot me :P)

He knew it was raining. He couldn't see it or hear it, but the humidity of the air told him of the wet grass outside. He knew it was night, both because he felt the fatigue, but also he heard distant chickadees. The fire from the fireplace lit the room, making everything throw long, frightening shadows. Maeglin sat down on his bed and pulled off his tunic. Tonight was quiet; he couldn't hear his parents at all. He heard the dogs bark at something in the main room, but that could be anything from a shadow to a squirrel.

He slowly un-braided his plait, remembering that his father had slapped him when he had seen it, and told him it was Elven folly. He had seen the warning in his father's eyes, but decided to stand up for himself for once, but all that had come out of his mouth had been an excuse. He said that it was easier to work when he didn't get his hair caught, but Eöl had just grabbed the plait and offered to cut it off if it was of annoyance for his first-born daughter. Maeglin had cringed and had shamefully started to un-braid his hair much to his father's amusement.

Once home, once more his mother had asked why his hair was not braided, and he had answered that he did not need a plait. Aredhel had shaken her head, and just braided it once more. Even though Maeglin had known they would get in trouble, the feeling of his mother's hands running through his hair was just too precious. He had not even had to ask her to sing, but she began to sing a hushed tune about the shores of Aman. Maeglin had almost fallen asleep when his mother had patted his shoulder and whispered, "Now you are my son, my precious Lomion." For a second he had shown, feeling showered in the love that was his and Aredhel's - until he had showed up, demanding his supper, and Aredhel had hurried off to stir her pots. Strangely enough, he did not even mention the braid was back. Maeglin knew this was a bad sign. Aredhel had tried all she could, making pleasant conversation, but Eöl had just nodded or shook his head.

When Maeglin had excused himself from the table, he had felt his father's stare follow him, making his skin crawl. And sure enough, just when he had lit the fire in the fireplace in his rooms his father had burst in his door and... and...

Maeglin shook his head to get rid of his thoughts, and flopped back in the sheets wincing as his sore back made contact with the sheets, Thrice damned be that darkelf and his temper, he thought to himself, while he was trying to find some comfortable position to lie in.

Fatigue and emotional drain soon caught up with Maeglin, and he found himself in troubled dreams.

He was standing in this stunning, beautiful city, more light and shining that he could ever had imagined. He thought that this must be what the hidden city looked like, and that all his mother's stories had been right. He was about to explore the city, completely awe struck by the sight, when he heard his voice, his hated voice. He spun around and saw his father stand there, tall, strict, and frightening. His body language told Maeglin that his father was displeased. "Look at you..." he said.

Maeglin looked down himself. He wore bright blue robes with silver linings. He paled and looked up at his father. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know... I ..." He looked over at his father with pleading eyes, knowing well that this was far worse than the plait. "I'm sorry."

Eöl stepped closer and slapped him hard over the face with the back of his hand. Maeglin could taste the blood in his mouth, but the pain of the cracked lip did not come. "You defile this place by your very presence."

"I didn't do anything wrong..." he whined.

His father just grabbed his hair, and forcefully pulled something out of it. Maeglin caught a glimpse of a dark blue ribbon, which he couldn't remember putting there. "Why do you constantly defy me, son?" Eöl hissed.

"I didn't mean to... I tried... I didn't know... please, let go of me father." Maeglin clawed his father's chest. "Please?"

"You are a failure," Eöl hissed in his ear. "You are a good for nothing harlot, that is what you are."

Maeglin's eyes widened. Harlot?

Suddenly, Eöl spun Maeglin around. "What say you, good citizens?" he roared.

Maeglin felt as if his heart had stopped for a second, as he saw a horde of elves, all pretty and perfect, shining like the buildings around them. But their eyes shown with loathing, all directed at him. This very instant, he most of all felt like crying.   
Eöl pushed Maeglin in front of him. "What say you?"

Maeglin tried to back away from the masses, but his father held him in place. The more he struggled, the firmer Eöl's grip got. "Father, why are you doing this?" he whispered.

"Silence!" Eöl sneered, and hit him once more. Maeglin's world went black.

He woke up on a bunk bed in a dark room. He knew this place; he had been here before. This was the dwarf's realm. He hated this place, and he hated this room. Nothing but the sound of the mountain, and... was that breathing? He blinked rapidly to focus his eyes, and then he finally did see something. He saw this father standing in the dim lighting with a huge grin. "Good morning princess," he whispered.

"Why are you here?" he burst out, regretting it in the second he had said it.

"Silence child," Eöl said and took a step closer.

Maeglin's breath caught in his throat as he saw his father standing naked, sporting an impossible huge erection, and in his hand holding a vicious looking hunting knife. "Now be a good boy," he chuckled as he held out the red ribbon from the light city, "stand up and face the wall."

He just knew better than to ask questions, so he did as his father bid, biting his already cracked lip when he felt his father grab his arms twisting them before tying them together in a hard tie. But when his father did not touch him he suddenly got confused and turned his head, earning himself a stinging slap once more to the face. "I told you to face the wall," Eöl said, eerily calm. "But since you are in such a hurry to look upon me, you can turn and face me, and sit down on the bed."

And so Maeglin did, keeping his eyes on the floor, not sure what to make of this. "Father?"

Eöl looked down at his son with a wolfish grin. "What?"

"Pl-please put away the knife," he whispered.

"This?" the dark elf said, holding the knife up to Maeglin's face.

"Y-yes..."

"But, why should I do that?" Eöl chuckled, and used the knife's edge to raise Maeglin's head so they made eye contact.

"It fr-frightens me..." he whispered, shivering at the feeling of the cold steel against his chin.

"Are you afraid? Afraid of what?" Eöl teased, as he turned the blade so the sharp edge was against Maeglin's throat, "that I will hurt you?"

"Yes," he whispered barely audible.

"It's just a safety, little one, so I know you will do as your told," Eöl said as he removed the knife. "Now look at me."

Maeglin looked up at his father.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, lessening the pressure of the knife somewhat. The younger elf opened his mouth, and Eöl pushed his engorged member inside the welcoming warmth. "If I feel teeth, or something that displeases me, you will taste metal, understood?"

Maeglin tried to reply, but he couldn't answer, neither nod nor speak. His mouth was filled with his father, so he just blinked, hoping his father would take that as a sign of agreement.

"You better please me, boy, for I will warn you only once," Eöl said with a wicked smile as he began to thrust slowly, clearly amused by Maeglin's effort to try not to gag. Water rising in Maeglin's eyes, but he was not able to wipe it away. He ignored that, just concentrating on not making a single move that could in any way displease his father. "Look at me," Eöl whispered, and Maeglin's gaze travelled to his father's hovering above him. "You like this, don't you?" he whispered. Unable to answer, Maeglin could just try his hardest not to get unfocused on his task. "Oh yes, you do." Eöl gasped, thrusting harder into his son's mouth.

Maeglin wished nothing more than to close his eyes, and for some strange reason he wished he could wipe away the drool that ran down his chin.

"Answer me boy!" Eöl suddenly boomed, and Maeglin blinked once more, letting his father read what he wanted from that gesture.

"Oh I know you do, because I know what you are;" he whispered, with a dangerous edge, "You are just like me." He paused and lost himself in some irregular thrusts. "You and I are the same, son. Look over your shoulder and I will be there."

* * *

Maeglin woke himself screaming and kicking in his bed, tangling himself in his sheets. NO, NO! He was not like that! That thought echoed in his mind over and over again.  _I am not my father!_  He sat up in the bed, ignoring the pain in his limbs. He raised his hand to wipe away the drool, but found none. "An evil dream..." he whispered. "Thank the Valar, 'tis was but an evil dream." He used the corner of his bedcover to wipe off the sweat from his face. Maeglin waited until his heart found a steady rhythm once more, and his breathing had returned to almost normal. Then he slowly moved out of the bed to stir up the remains of the fire and get some light. Perhaps this had all been a dream, but the pain on his back and from his private parts was very real. The young elf sighed. He had wanted to return his mother's gesture, and try and find a time where they would be able to escape from this place. But he could take no more of this, he was tired of being afraid all the time, tired of looking over his shoulder. Nay, this had to end here!

He slowly bent down to put on his brown leggings. Eöl had always said that they did not need to act like haughty elflords, but Maeglin shared his mothers taking to jewellery and pretty colours, not brown clothing made of flax.

Sticking his feet in his boots, he came to a decision. He would ride out and have someone come rescue his mother. Yes, that is what he would do. But where to go? He didn't know where the hidden city lay. And just who would aid him? He shook his head as he absentmindedly braided his hair in a plait. First of all he had to get out of here, without Eöl noticing.

He snuck out in the corridor and down to the main room. As if the dogs knew he would be in terrible trouble should their master wake, they just wagged their tails, but stayed silent. Maeglin smiled thankfully at the dogs, and took two beautifully crafted daggers and a long slender sword from the wall. These would do just perfect. Eöl might be a tyrant, but he did know how to make a good sword.

For a second Maeglin doubted his plan, what if Eöl found him? He was sure that he was in for a disciplining like he had never had, but no. He had to try, so he tiptoed out into the stables. Relived for getting this far, he grabbed his horse, not bothering with giving it a rein. He swung himself on its back, and groaned as his abused behind came into contact with the horse. "Please help me," he whispered to the horse. "You have just as good of an idea of where to go as me, so just take me away from here."

The horse nodded with its head, moving impatiently around, and for a second he thought the other horses would begin to make noise, but luckily they didn't. He spurred the huge black stallion, riding out and away from his childhood home as fast as he could.

 


	7. I am the silencing machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nuttin much to say here... other than I don't know what the ME visions was on prostheses, I say they were possible and did exist *wink*

Almost year had passed while Maglor had been serving as high king. He hated that duty with passion. But still, Maedhros did not seem to get better; his wounds had long since healed, but not the ones in his soul. This afternoon, Maglor had left his brother's chambers with an ultimatum. It was over; he did not want to be high king anymore.  
  
He closed the door behind him, noticing Maedhros standing on the balcony. "Maitimo?" he said loud, and walked across the room, towards the balcony. "A mighty fine day."  
  
"Yes..." Maedhros answered, and turned to look at his younger brother. Maglor fumbled with his crown.  
  
"Here," Maglor said, handing it to Maedhros. "It's yours; I can't do this anymore."  
  
"Nonsense." Maedhros said, "You did just perfect."  
  
"How would you know? You have not been outside your door," the black haired elf stated. "If you don't want it, I say uncle Fingolfin is the righteous heir to the throne."  
  
"Fingolfin?!" Maedhros gasped, "Nay, I cannot give the crown and title to him."  
  
"And why not?" Maglor hissed, "He is father's eldest brother, and this crown is Finwë's, and thus should belong to the next in line, not you, not me, Fingolfin."  
  
Maedhros tried to get past Maglor, but his younger brother pushed him against the wall. "You better wake up from your self-pity soon; we need you to wear this crown. No one else can wear it right."  
  
Caught off guard, Maedhros looked down at his brother most confused. "But you..."  
  
"I? I choose not to," Maglor sneered, and dropped the crown on the floor with a loud 'clank'. He let go of his brother, and he walked into the bedroom once more. "We had an addition to the family a couple of days ago."  
  
Now, Maedhros curiosity was piqued. "What? Who, from where?"  
  
"Curufin apparently had a son," Maglor said softly. "His name is Celebrimbor."  
  
"You must tell me more," Maedhros gasped, and quickly moved to sit down on the bed next to Maglor.  
  
"Nay, you can go see him yourself. He is with mother, in the nursery she had made for him," Maglor said, turning his head to look at his big brother. "He is the sweetest wee one; he even captured the heart of Caranthir."  
  
The red haired elf drew a deep shuddering breath. "Yes, you are right. I should go see mother."  
  
"Yes," Maglor just said. "Come, Maitimo, I will follow you there." He reached out to caress his brother's cheek gently. "She would be so happy..."  
  
"Alright," Maedhros whispered, "Hand me a tunic, and my boots."  
  
"Oh, Maitimo, I am so happy," Maglor said, almost shedding tears of joy. Could this be? Would his brother finally go out, even if it was just down the hall...?  
  
Maedhros grabbed his tunic, and tried his hardest to straighten it out, to get a grab on it to get it over his head, but failed not having two hands to help him. The frustration was mounting, and he suddenly tossed the offending piece of cloth far away with his good hand. "Damned be!" he cried, and sat down on the bed, crying for all his frustrations and fears.  
  
"Maitimo..." Maglor whispered.  
  
But Maedhros turned his back to his brother. "I was right all along. What good am I as a brother, a son, or a king, if I cannot even dress myself...?" he sobbed miserably.  
  
"Maedhros, listen to me," Maglor whispered, as he wrapped his arms around his brother from behind, resting his head on Maedhros' shoulder. "Your abilities for being a son or a brother do not lie in your hands." He tightened his hold, and buried his face in the thick red hair of his brother. "Please, Maitimo, you must believe me, I would gladly help you for the rest of our eternity, or find a way to teach you." He heard his brother sigh and continued. "What if we went and saw the smith?" he mumbled.  
  
"What can he do? Forge me a sword to cast myself upon?" Maedhros whispered back, wiping tears from his face with his hand.  
  
"No, he can make you a hand," Maglor whispered, feeling his own tears sting. "Please, if not for me, or your subjects, then for mother."  
  
"A hand?" Maedhros sniffled.  
  
"Yes, an iron hand; he showed me the draft of one."  
  
"Do-do you think it would... wo-work?" Maedhros said, with a meek voice. "I'm afraid I would look like a monster with an iron hand."  
  
"No..." Maglor whispered. "You are Maitimo, you could never be a monster."  
  
Maedhros chuckled. "You are so terrible at persuading, Maglor."  
  
Maglor bit Maedhros' ear, and pushed him from the bed as when they were kids. "You always bite!" Maedhros whined with a smile.  
  
"And you always tease," Maglor spat back, and stuck out his tongue.  
  
Maedhros got up from the floor and smacked Maglor over the head playfully. "You can help me, oaf!"  
  
"Oh, thank you, lord of a thousand goats," he snapped back, but smiled as he picked up the tunic helping his brother get dressed, grooming the irate tresses of red hair into something resembling a hairdo.  
  
And as he guided his brother out the door, he must have been the proudest elf on the face of Arda. "Don't tell anybody I said this..." he whispered, and snaked an arm around the waist of his brother. "I love you."  
  
Maedhros laughed softly. "I will declare national 'Maglor loves his brother' day," he teased, ruffling the black hair of Maglor's head.  
  
"You wouldn't dare," Maglor gasped.  
  
"Are you daring me, little brother?" Maedhros said clinging to his brother, trying to keep conversation light so he would forget he was outside his own rooms.  
  
Maglor let his brother into a little room, who if Maedhros remembered right, used to be a storage room for old un-useful furniture. His mother sat by a tall candelabra singing softly to a bundle in her arms. For a second Maedhros looked at Maglor, Maglor just smiled reassuring and gently pushed Maedhros forward, as he closed the door behind them.  
  
"Mother?" Maedhros whispered.  
  
Nerdanel looked up and looked as though she had seen a ghost. "Maedhros, my little Maitimo, is it really you?"  
  
"Yes..." Maedhros said, and stepped closer into the light of the candelabra.  
  
Nerdanel started to cry, upon seeing her son he looked worn and twisted. Destroyed was the word that came to her mind. "Oh, my baby. What did they do to you?" she mumbled and extended a hand towards the tall elf.  
  
Maedhros dropped to his knees, and grabbed his mother's hand in his, rubbing it to his chin. "Don't worry about that," he whispered. He looked down at the baby in the bundle. "So this is Curufin's heir..." he whispered, feeling tears threatening to fall.  
  
"Yes," Maglor said softly, as he gently pried the baby from Nerdanel. "Come, Celebrimbor, we are going for a walk," he mumbled to the baby, who just waved his arms in response, half in sleep. He walked out the room, and closed the door softly behind him. They needed time alone he thought, smiling to himself. Things would be alright now. Hopefully.  
  


* * *

  
  
Nerdanel kept touching her son's face as were he a phantasm that would disappear if she closed her eyes. "I thought they had broken your spirit," she finally whispered.  
  
"They had..." Maedhros mumbled, and laid his head in her lap. "It has been a long journey, but now I'm here."  
  
"Yes, you are," Nerdanel said softly, running her fingers through the thick red hair.  
  
"I couldn't bear that you should know; I didn't want anyone to know." Sobs shook Maedhros' body. There had been a time where he would have thought he would never bear a touch again in his life, yet he had been yearning for his mother's soothing voice. Just her presence gave him the illusion of that everything would be alright. "I missed you so terribly..." He took a deep breath and started crying harder. "I called for you, but you didn't come."  
  
Nerdanel let out a shuddering breath, feeling her own tears begin to fall. "I could not hear you my son. Had I heard you I would have taken on Morgoth himself to safe you," she said with a thick voice.  
  
"I know," he whispered, "I would have done the same for you."  
  
Nerdanel gently lifted Maedhros face with a hand. "You are very brave, so much braver than you think. A lesser elf would have told him what he wanted to hear to just hope for a quick painful death, but you my son, you are indeed the heir of your father."  
  
"I was not brave," Maedhros said with a little broken voice, and closed his eyes. "I was terrified; I thought I would never see any of you again." He tried to wipe his eyes, but too late realized he had no hand on that side anymore, so he just wiped his eyes with his stump. "I begged for Fingon to kill me, yet he didn't."  
  
"He loves you, he is your kin. And he sees the strong spirit within you," Nerdanel said, taking a hold of Maedhros stump running her fingers over it.  
  
Maedhros stayed quiet, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Fingon had acted out of love, and what had he done? Sent him from his side in the most cowardly way.  
  
"Will you join us now?" Nerdanel asked nervously. "Will you see your brothers, or will you hide yet again?"  
  
"I promise, I won't hide again," Maedhros whispered.  
  
"Good, we need your spirit and your guidance," Nerdanel said. "We are your blood, Maitimo, we will never scorn you no matter what those creatures threatened you with. They lied."  
  
Maedhros got a flash of claws ripping in his flesh. They had not threatened him. They had defiled him, made him unworthy of his family and of the crown.  
  
"I am here now," he forced himself to say.  
  
Nerdanel saw the fear that flashed in her son's eyes, and a deep dark part of her knew what had happened to him, but she would not ask, for even asking was too painful. "Everything is going to be alright," she said with a firm voice, "I won't light another pyre for a son."


	8. I am the voice inside your head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrecked my brain trying to figure out how you'd make tooth prosthesis in ME. Don't kill me, I stated that it was made off cow's bones, because I figured that the men had cows, and to make it out f another dead persons teeth would just be too fucking morbid. - on the issue on the prisoner from Menegroth and the refusal of speaking Sindarin, its actually very much canon. - I had Calad disappear on me, dunno why... Oh well, I asked my friend half elf lost, and she has betaed this, and will most properly be betaing more in the future if Calad do not come back.

Silence had once more claimed the household of Himring, Amrod watched Amras spend more time with Caranthir, and he felt left over. He did not know how to compose songs like Maglor and he knew nothing of war like Caranthir and Maedhros. He was only good at being Nerdanel's little baby, and with the arrival of Celebrimbor that had changed as well.

His thoughts had circled in on the prisoner in the dungeon, he had thought of this for a while. Still, when he was on his way to approach Maedhros, he felt sweat spring forth in his palms as he knocked on his brother's door to his office, his brother, the High King of the Noldo.

Maedhros looked up as the door opened, and saw his baby brother, looking terribly dishevelled "Pitya? What is amiss?"

Amrod moved through the office and sat down in a large leather chair. He looked at his brother, wrung his hands nervously and looked as if he would jump up at the smallest sound. "I wanted to ask you something," he finally admitted.

"Ask away," Maedhros said and leaned against the heavy oak desk in the middle of the floor. "I am listening."

"The pri-prisoner," Amrod whispered. "Did Caranthir...uhm...Interrogate him yet?"

Maedhros shook his head. "Nay, he needs someone who speaks the Sindarin tongue."

"Why?" Amrod said, leaning forward, looking intensely at his elder brother.

"Because King Thingol once swore that he would never again speak the language of the Noldor."

Amrod blinked, confused. "But Quenya is the language of the Valar, is it not? Were they not enraged?"

Maedhros slowly shook his head. "Nay, little one, they were not. For Thingol had his reasons," he took a deep breath. "He refused to ever utter a word, or let any of his subjects do it either, because it is the language of the kin slayers, yes, Pitya, we are the ones that did him wrong in his own court."

"Oh," Amrod said, feeling terrible stupid.

"So...this prisoner, this young one would never in his life have heard anything other than Sindarin spoken," Maedhros said, smiling. "Why did you want to know?"

"I just wondered if...I could help in any way." He looked at his brother and offered a weak smile. "Amras has his friends, and mother has the baby, and..."

"I understand," Maedhros said "And you feel left out?"

"No, I..." Amrod said before he slowly nodded. "...Yes."

"That settles it then, you are to be my chief grey-elf prisoner caretaker, little one."

"But I cannot speak Sindarin," Amrod said.

"I think we have books on the matter in the library," Maedhros said with an encouraging smile and walking over to lay his hand on his little brother's shoulder. "And you like to read, right?"

Amrod nodded. "Thank you." He was about to stand once more, but felt the hand on his shoulder holding him down. Maedhros set down resting on his heels, looking Amrod into his eyes. 

"But I better not find out that you do not bring me every piece of information he gives," the red-haired elf said softly. "Befriend him all you want, but he is still our prisoner, and perhaps the only link to where that damned gem is hidden." Upon seeing Amrod paling, Maedhros added, "You do not wish for your brothers and father to have died in vain, so you can have a friend, do you?"

"N-no," Amrod said strangely weak. "I will not let you down."

"Good, little brother." Maedhros said with a sad smile. There was nothing he wanted more than to give this prisoner up and let his brother befriend the scared youth, but he couldn't. All of Beleriand knew this elf was here. And they all waited for Maedhros' next move. And as much as it saddened the king's heart, they all expected him to be cruel. "Now run along."

Amrod nodded and rose as Maedhros rose to his feet once more. Watching as his baby brother fled his office.

 

Maglor walked out from the smithy, carrying a bundle covered in cloth. He had examined the prostheses himself, and he had to admit, it was beautifully made. He was very excited to show them to Maedhros.

He walking through the castle and came upon the door to the high king's study. "Brother?" he called, knocking the heavy wooden door. "I have something for you."

"Enter," Maedhros called and looked up from the map on the table. As the door swung open he smiled a toothless smile, seeing his brother there. "Maglor," he said happily. "What brings you here?"

Maglor smiled, feeling warm that his brother was so happy to see him. "I come from the blacksmith," he said as he turned to close the door.

"Oh," Maedhros sighed, and suddenly self-conscious, removed the arm stump from on top of the map.

Maglor walked across the floor and dumped the bundle of cloth onto the map. They both cringed when it gave a metallic 'clank'. "It's finished," he said with a small voice.

With a shaking hand, Maedhros peeled the cloth to see what was inside. There was a strange device with some white looking squares. It looked an awful lot like real teeth. Maglor picked it up and turned it over in his hands "Tusk?"

"No, bones from a cow," Maglor said with a little blush. "But I'm sure it will work; you just need a little training in talking with it, the smith said."

Maedhros looked at his brother, as if he were he searching for an answer or maybe a blessing. When Maglor nodded encouragingly, Maedhros slowly opened his mouth and put the device in.

The tension lay heavy in the room, and when Maedhros removed his hand he smiled a little, testing, smile at Maglor. "Amazing," breathed the bard. "You look like... my Maitimo," he admitted. "It's magic."

"Fttfreally," Maedhros said, involuntarily spitting on the map, not used to having something in his mouth. Maglor turned and walked over to the wall, taking down a mirror and carrying it over to Maedhros.

"Look," he said, holding up the mirror.

Maedhros closed his eyes, afraid of what he would see. He remembered running his hands over his head, feeling bald spots where they had pulled out his hair. And he remembered the scars on his face with his fingertips.

"Please, brother, open your eyes," Maglor said softly.

And with a shuddering breath Maedhros opened his eyes, bracing himself for the worst. But looking back at himself in the mirror was... "Oh," he breathed, feeling tears sting as he studied his face, his large green eyes shimmering with tears, running his fingers over his face.

"You are my Maitimo," Maglor whispered again smiling happily.

"I look just like...me," the elder elf whispered. "You are right, it is really magic."

Maglor put down the mirror and picked up the half arm made of wood and metal. "Come, let me strap it on for you," he said.

Maedhros held out his stump and looked down on what his brother was doing. The arm was made so that leather would cover the part that was in contact with his skin, keeping the metal skeleton from gnawing into the stump of flesh. At the end was a beautiful carved hand in light wood. After strapping the device on Maedhros' arm, Maglor looked up at his brother, as he pulled down the sleeve so only the wooden hand showed. "There."

Maedhros twisted and turned his arm looking at the hand. "It's uncomfortable," he whispered, "and it looks like dead branch." He looked at his brother with a sad look.

"No, you are just not used to it, Maitimo," Maglor said with an affectionate, gentle caress to his brother's cheek. "You will learn to like it quicker than you think."

"But..." Maedhros said, feeling his mood darken and looking at the wooden limb. "I cannot touch anyone with it."

"No," Maglor whispered back. "But you will learn to use it. You just need to get accustomed to it."

"I don't know, Maglor," Maedhros said and touched the wooden hand with his good one. "It looks frightening."

"It’s not frightening, don't be silly," Maglor said with a cheeky smile "We could have gotten you canines and a hook, then you would truly have been scary."

Maedhros couldn't help but chuckle. "I suppose that would live up to how the elven lords see me in the first place."

"Not true, you are our king; no one would dare say such a thing of you," Maglor said hotly.

"Don't be so sure," Maedhros said softly, smiling at his brother. "You are the best brother anyone could want, Maglor."

Maglor smiled sweetly and kissed his brother's hand. "Everything will be fine."


	9. I take you where you want to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Mel *huggles* - and sorry for this extremely late update but I have been meddling about with bishies and creating a new lj community for the Library of Moria. And I am aware that it’s quite the detour that Maeglin makes, but to Mordor with that, otherwise the plot wouldn't work.
> 
> Betaed by Miss Wilde.

He had not dared to waste time with sleep, or even rests; Maeglin had pushed on, making the distance from Nan Elmoth to what he believed to be the road to the hidden city. But as he had walked through endless passes and valleys he had realized he was lost. Tears of frustration came to his eyes as he continued to make his way through rocks and scarce vegetation.  
  
Walking up to the top of a large cliff, he saw it: a stronghold. His heart leaped with joy, for he was tired, hurt and aching. An encounter with a mountain lion had left deep wounds in his back, and he silently cursed himself every time they hurt for not being more alert when the beast had attacked. But he had been too tired, too worn to see her. Now he reckoned that the wounds were infected; they had not yet closed and were still causing him discomfort, and his increasingly worsening eyesight told him he might be running a slight fever.  
  
Almost falling off the large cliff, he rolled down to the path under him which led to the stronghold. Scraping his elbows and knees, he got up and dragged himself to the large doors leading inside into the safe haven.  
  
"Stay still!" a voice barked.  
  
Maeglin looked up, but only saw the outline of a person with his back against the sun. "I am Maeglin," he whispered.  
  
"Sure, and I am Sildin," the guard said pushing the dark elf with his foot.  
  
Maeglin fell over, wincing as he had to push himself up again on his bruised hands. "Will you at least tell me where I am?" he whispered.  
  
"This is Himring," the guard said, "stronghold of the high king. What is your business here?"  
  
"The king..." Maeglin breathed, "I mean no harm...please...I am hurt and hungry..."  
  
The guard turned to another guard. "Go and fetch Lord Caranthir." The other elf hurried off, leaving Maeglin with the guard pointing a spear in his face. "Where did you come from? And why did you come here?" he barked.  
  
"Nan Elmoth," Maeglin said, "Doriath." Pushing himself to a sitting position he looked up at the guard. "I got lost."  
  
The guard narrowed his eyes. "You do realize it sounds highly suspicious, don't you? No one could make it alone from Doriath to the pass of Himring."  
  
"I did have a horse at first," Maeglin stated in childish defence.  
  
The guard rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder as Caranthir emerged. "My lord Caranthir," he whispered, and bowed.  
  
"Stranger," Caranthir said, "I am Caranthir, the king's brother; pray tell from where do you hail?"  
  
"Nan Elmoth," Maeglin whispered once more, "Yet I was merely born there, I hail to no one."  
  
"No one?" Caranthir said.  
  
Maeglin lowered his gaze. "No, my lord."  
  
"Are you hurt, stranger?" Caranthir said.  
  
"Yes my lord, I think I might be badly hurt, I implore you to help me..." the black-haired elf whispered.  
  
"Those scratches? What kind of an elf are you?"  
  
"No...my back..." Maeglin said weakly. Caranthir gestured to the guard to go and lift up the elf's tunic.  
  
Upon seeing the deep, badly infected wounds on Maeglin's back, Caranthir paled. "By Eru!" he gasped, "You might be suspicious, but you are in great need of help, young Maeglin." He turned to the guards. "Carry him into the healers' house," he barked. "I shall inform my brother."  
  
He turned and left in haste, as the guards picked up Maeglin and carried him off, less than careful.  
  


* * *

  
  
Days passed eventless for Maeglin in the healers' house, but gradually he felt the strength return to his body. Only seeing the same two elves who were apparently the healers, he was lulled into a boring routine. They wouldn't tell him their names or answer any of his questions to begin with. They only asked him the necessary, and examined his body. Then one day the elf he had met upon his arrival suddenly appeared in the doorframe, another red-haired elf behind him. It was easy for the darkelf to see they were royalty; their clothes were richly decorated and they carried themselves with an arrogant air.  
  
"Stranger!" The dark-haired elf said.  
  
"My lord Caranthir," Maeglin mumbled and slowly sat up.  
  
"This is my brother, Lord Amras," he said gesturing towards the younger elf who stepped forth.  
  
"My Lord Amras," Maeglin said, and swung his legs out over the edge of the mattress to greet the brothers.  
  
"Nay, stay," Caranthir said, "a servant will bring you some clothes, and then Amras is to take you to our elder brother, who is the king's most trusted advisor." The dark-haired elf narrowed his eyes and looked upon Maeglin. "I would advise you to be respectful," he whispered dangerously.  
  
Maeglin swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, my lord Caranthir."  
  
"So be it." Caranthir patted his brother on the shoulder. "I will see you later, brother," he whispered, and left the room.  
  
They waited in silence until the servant had come with the clothes, laid them on the bed, bowed to Amras and left the chamber. Maeglin stood up and walked over to the pile of clothes. His legs were giving him trouble, and he could feel that it had been a long time since he had used them. Suddenly he halted, and blushed. Amras sensed his nervousness and turned his back to the dark elf. Maeglin smiled in gratitude and stripped in order to dress himself. And after struggling somewhat with the leggings he softly whispered, "I am done, my lord Amras."  
  
Amras turned and looked at the elf. He looked like a real elf now, not like the maltreated shadow he had seen lying in this bed just days ago. "Follow me," he said and left the room, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Maeglin was following.  
  
The little darkelf was absolutely amazed as they walked though large halls and dark corridors; he had never seen anything this big in his life. "Excuse me lord Amras," he said, "but do you really live here?"  
  
"Yes," Amras said simply, killing the conversation right there.  
  
Maeglin just kept his questions to himself and followed the red haired elf to a large wooden door, which Amras opened. "Brother?" he called.  
  
"Out here," Maglor called back, sitting on his balcony, looking out over the garden.  
  
Amras walked out there and Maeglin followed. "Brother, I bring you the stray elf," he said, stepping away and letting Maglor look upon the black-haired youth.  
  
"Thank you, Amras," Maglor said and smiled at his younger brother, "you can leave now."  
  
"Yes," Amras said and bowed slightly, leaving the balcony.  
  
The second he heard the door being closed to the corridor, Maglor smiled at Maeglin. "Sit," he said.  
  
"My lord," Maeglin whispered and hurried to sit.  
  
Maglor wished he could see the face beneath the drape of raven tresses that fell down in front the elf's features. "Would you look at me?"  
  
Maeglin looked up at the older elf, brushing his hair out of his face.  
  
The son of Fëanor found his breath caught in his throat, looking upon this little piece of perfection, but he was trained to be diplomatic, and kept his façade. "What is your name, little one?"  
  
"I am Maeglin, son of Aredhel," he whispered, wringing his hands in his lap. "Are you Maedhros?" he asked with a blush. "My lord," he added.  
  
"No, child," Maglor laughed. "I am Maglor, the high king's younger brother, and advisor."  
  
Maeglin's mouth formed an 'O' but no sound came.  
  
"Pray tell, Maeglin son of Aredhel, what brings you to Himring?" Maglor said, taking a sip of his tea, looking at the young elf as if he were trying to imprint every little piece of him.  
  
"I ran," Maeglin whispered. "I searched for my sister's brother and his hidden city, but I failed to find it, my lord."  
  
"You are a very brave elf, if that is the truth," Maglor said, putting the cup down on the table again. "Do you realise what the odds were for you to even make it here?"  
  
"No, my lord," Maeglin said with a weak blush.  
  
"Zero," Maglor said. "It's a long and very dangerous journey, and not even my brothers who are trained, brave warriors would take that trip alone."  
  
"Oh," Maeglin murmured, "I didn't know that..."  
  
"For what it is worth, I believe you are who you claim to be," Maglor said. "My cousin married a dark elf and had a child; I do not know if it was a boy or a girl, or the name, so I cannot say you are not he."  
  
"She didn't marry him," Maeglin spat hotly, only to regret it seconds later when he saw Maglor frown, and he lowered his voice. "Forgive me, but she did not marry him, my lord."  
  
"I only know what rumour tells me," Maglor said and raised a brow, smiling at the youth. Oh, he was beautiful indeed, and even more with that pretty blush to his cheeks. He had to convince himself not to reach out and touch that skin that looked so soft, and the hair, it was the reason to compose an ode in itself, he mused. Like liquid night. But he was shaken from his day dreaming when he heard Maeglin's voice.  
  
"My lord?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Maglor said, "Well in the high king's absence I have decided, you are from now on our guest; any child of our cousin is always welcome here." In reality he just didn't want to see the beautiful elf gone, he couldn't care less if he was who he claimed to be. He just wanted him close. But upon seeing the elf's baffled expression Maglor continued. "A servant is to bring you to your guest rooms," he told the confused beauty with a friendly smile.  
  
"I...Th-thank you my lord," he whispered and smiled nervously at the elder elf.  
  
"Sadly your mother's other brother has just returned home from a visit here. But I need to send him some letters; you can add one if you please."  
  
"But I know not what to write, my lord," Maeglin said softly, smiling nervously.  
  
"Oh, but he knew of your existence, little Maeglin, and he has been searching for his sister for years, so he would be thrilled to learn of news," Maglor said taking the last sip of his tea and putting down the cup a final time.  
  
"I shall write him, my lord," Maeglin said, not able to look into the large searching eyes of the elven lord.  
  


* * *

  
  
Later that night Maglor came to his brother's study to find Maedhros slumped over a large map with a bottle of potent wine in his hand, trying to pour some in a glass, missing and spilling it on the map. "Oops," he said to himself.  
  
"Brother?" Maglor said in a hushed voice as he walked over to the desk. Taking the bottle from Maedhros he poured the red liquid into the glass; his elder brother looked up, and smiled. "Thanks," he murmured and tried to compose himself, taking the glass. "Can't sleep?" he said.  
  
"No," Maglor said and smiled. "Aredhel's son is here," he said blushing slightly.  
  
"Oh, I see," Maedhros chuckled and coughed, "Send him to Fingon then; he would wish for his nephew to join his household."  
  
"Not yet," Maglor said and took the glass out of Maedhros' hand, emptying it himself. "I will send the news to him first; he might be busy." Maglor choose his words carefully, since he had actually heard from another messenger that Fingon had found himself a bride. But no matter what his brother would say, he knew his heart, and he would not like to be the one to deal such a deathblow.  
  
"Busy!" Maedhros spat and snatched the glass back filling it with more success this time.  
  
"Maitimo? Will you write him a letter also?" Maglor said kneeling at Maedhros' side, "You really should..."  
  
"No," the high king said, his voice dripping with venom, "And don't address this matter again."  
  
"I take it you heard the rumour then..." Maglor said softly, placing his hand on his brother's wooden one.  
  
"Silence!" Maedhros yelled, "I said do not address this matter again!"  
  
"I think you are in the wrong, Maitimo," Maglor whispered, "But if it makes you happy, I shall not speak his name ever again."  
  
"Thank you, brother," the red-haired elf said more relaxed and took a deep breath. "So tell me, what is it about this elf of yours, why are you so keen on him staying?"  
  
Completely taken off guard, he cursed that his brother knew him too well. "I...I..." he mumbled and looked down at his hand resting on Maedhros' prostheses.  
  
"You are transparent, brother mine..." he said softly, and gently ran a hand over Maglor's hair.  
  
The black-haired brother smiled. "He is beautiful," he whispered and slowly looked up at his brother, "Just you wait and see."  
  
"Can it be? Did my icicle of a brother get struck after all?" he teased.  
  
Maglor just blushed. "Keep this a secret, please?" he pleaded.  
  
"Your secret is safe with me."  
  
"Thank you," Maglor said as he stood up. "Come, you should go to bed."  
  
"It's no use," Maedhros whined, "I cannot sleep."  
  
"Oh no? With all that wine in your head, I am sure you will pass out before you hit the mattress," Maglor said, pulling his drunken brother to his feet.  
  
"Will you stay with me?" Maedhros said looking at his brother with a hidden plea.  
  
"Yes," Maglor answered with a smile, "But let us just get there first..." He started pulling the drunken elf down the corridor and towards his bedroom. Once inside he guided his brother to the bed and sure enough Maedhros was asleep before Maglor pulled the blanket over him. He kneeled down and gently opened the clasps and pulled off the wooden hand, placing it on the bedside. "Sleep tight," he whispered and lay down on the other side of his brother on top of the blanket, wrapping an arm around Maedhros. Then he too drifted off to sleep, with sweet dreams filled with liquid darkness.


	10. I am the Bullet in the Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What to say? I tried to portrait the family some. And yes I promise I will have some actual smut soon, it just doesn’t fit in the plot right now, but it will come... (she said 'come' - hur hur) - but I need one thing from you girls... I am trying to make up my mind about something here, so I need to know... should Maglor get some bootay?
> 
> Betaed by half_elf_lost.

**(A month later...)**  
  
Amrod felt like he had studied till his head hurt, he had taken piles of books on the Grey Elf tongue with him to bed and read until the daylight broke. He was so determined to show Maedhros that he could do this; he would not take the honour he had shown him lightly. Besides he hoped he could buy some time from Caranthir and his interrogations. Last night he had heard screaming that echoed throughout the halls and corridors. They had even woken up Celebrimbor who had started crying, and moments later he had heard the light patter of his mother running barefoot down the hall.  
  
Amrod had hurried to Caranthir first thing in the morning and tried to get some information on how the prisoner was. But his older brother was a mask of silence and he had given up. He would ask Amras later; Caranthir told Amras everything.  
  
The young elf had gone to the kitchen and asked the servants if he could get some of the leftover food from the meal. They had allowed him to take it, not really caring if he fed the Lord's huge dogs with it.  
  
Now he was walking down the long stone spiral staircase to the dungeon carrying a tray with food and water. And the further he went the more he felt sorry for those poor sods that never saw the sun for as long as they were here. But this was nothing; what his big brother had to endure with the Dark Lord must have been a hundredfold compared to this measly dungeon. Amrod shook his head, pushed these disturbing thoughts aside, and walked down the narrow corridor. He nodded to the keeper and said, "Open the door for me please."  
  
The keeper just smiled and opened the prisoner's door, shaking his head at the young prince. Caranthir had told him that the High King had allowed this, so he should just amuse the young princeling.  
  
Amrod slowly walked inside and put the tray down on the stone floor "Eat," he said in Sindarin, hoping that the other elf would. "It is from the dinner table," he said softly and pushed the tray closer to the huddled form in the shadow.  
  
Nothing happened. Amrod scooted closer to the prisoner, "It's good," he said with a smile, picking up a chicken wing, taking a little bite, but the shadowed elf did not even look up. Without thinking, Amrod reached out and lifted the prisoner's head with a finger under his chin. "Look," he whispered, taking a bite of the wing. The shadowed elf looked up at him with large frightened dark blue eyes and Amrod felt his heart fall. The prisoner was nothing but a youngster about his own age; what a cruel fate to sit here and rot. This was the first time he had seen his face, and as the young elf trembled under his finger, he decided to remove it. "I won't hurt you," he said, "Here, eat," he handed the chicken wing to the prisoner. And this time the youngster took it, taking a little bite while looking at the intruder in the rich robe.  
  
Amrod felt a bit sad that the elf was so frightened of him, but what had he expected? He called out to the keeper if they could get a candle; the keeper came with a torch and fastened it on the side of the wall where there was a metal device made for this purpose. The door closed behind him with a metallic 'Clang' and Amrod was once more alone with the elf.  
  
He handed the elf the rest of the tray, and the prisoner took the large cup with water and drank as his life depended on it. And then Amrod noticed, big red welts on his feet and hands which had been hidden by the shadow before. Now the angry red colour seemed to stand out. Amrod paled thinking back on the screams he had heard the night before.  
  
"Wh-what is your name?" the prisoner asked with a hoarse voice.  
  
By Eru! The voice was just as beautiful as the elf himself, Amrod thought with a light blush, scolding himself for even thinking it. "I am Amrod," he said, "What is yours?"  
  
The prisoner just shook his head and the chains rattled slightly. "It was kind of you to bring me food," the youngster whispered.  
  
"I figured you were hungry," Amrod said with a warm smile. After the first setback, he had not even counted on hearing this beautiful young elf's voice. Amrod blinked and realized he was staring, but the other was hauntingly perfect.  
  
"I was," the elf said, pushing some of his raven black hair behind his ear, "I take it you live here."  
  
"Yes," said Amrod, suddenly feeling unnerved. He had never for a second thought about what hate this elf might bear for his brothers and kin. He did not want to lie, but neither did he want this beautiful elf to hate him for something he had no part in. And besides, the other elf did not know his brothers and parents as he did.  
  
"You do not strike me as a cutthroat like the rest," the prisoner said. Amrod must have looked mortified and the prisoner continued, "Did you not hear what they did to us? All of us, females and children as well. Bloodthirsty and cruel I tell you."  
  
"Not all of us..." Amrod started but the dark-haired prisoner cut him off.  
  
"Now run and tell your king that, and tell him I won't tell him anything even if I'm flogged; I won't tell his spies, no matter how inviting, nice, and pretty as they are."  
  
"But...I am not..." Amrod whispered.  
  
"Haste to your king and his cruel brothers, run and tell them all. I will not tell you anything!" the prisoner barked.  
  
"I am no spy," Amrod said. "I am only your caretaker," he whispered, feeling most of all like he had just been slapped. This divine being hated him with all his heart, and for some reason this saddened him beyond anything else. He would have to keep his identity a secret otherwise he would never be able to speak with this elf again. "I am Varlin," he lied.  
  
"Greetings, Varlin," the prisoner said, not even moving a muscle.  
  
"And what may I call you?"  
  
"You may call me Idun," the prisoner said.  
  
Amrod smiled and slowly rose to his feet. "I shall see you tomorrow, Idun," he said softly. "and I shall see if I can arrange for some warmer clothes and a bath for you."  
  
The prisoner smiled a genuine smile up at him. "You are most kind," he said.  
  
Amrod felt like his knees would give in – this smile. Never had he seen anything this magnificent. And right there and then he decided he wanted to see that smile more, much, much more. "Until tomorrow," he said and smiled back, hoping to the Valar that the heat in his cheeks did not show.  
  


* * *

  
  
Amrod made his way up from the dungeon and gave back the tray to the servants before he walked to the large hall. Seeing his mother sit in front of the fire sewing a cape, he walked over behind her and rested his head on her shoulder. "Is that for Celebrimbor when he grows into it?" he whispered.  
  
"Yes," Nerdanel said, resting her handiwork in her lap and reaching up caressing her youngest son's cheek. "Where have you been? You smell like mould."  
  
"The dungeon. Maedhros let me attend to the prisoner," he said smiling into his mother's palm.  
  
"And is he the reason for your smile?" Nerdanel asked.  
  
Amrod stiffened. He hated when his mother could see through him. "I am just glad I get to help. They all have their duties and now I have mine as well."  
  
"Don't forget your tutoring," Nerdanel said, chiding her son slightly.  
  
"But Amras doesn't have to go," Amrod replied in childish defence.  
  
"No, Caranthir asked for your brother to use his time learning the way of the sword instead."  
  
Amrod moved away from his mother's shoulder with a sigh, and went to sit at her feet instead. He felt the fire warm his back.  
  
Maglor and Maedhros made their way to their mother and brother and without a word they sat down next to Amrod. Maglor leaned his head on his little brother's shoulder. "Maglor?" Amrod said softly, "Would you sing us a song?"  
  
"About what, Pitya?" Maglor asked.  
  
"Would you sing the song you always sang when it was harvest time, before we came here. Before..." he took a deep breath and stayed silent.  
  
"Yes, I can sing that song," Maglor said with a smile "I had forgotten that until you reminded me."  
  
Amrod looked up and saw Nerdanel run her fingers through Maedhros' hair, untangling it, and Maedhros rested his head on their mother's thigh, closing his eyes in reverie, smiling as Maglor began to sing the happy harvest song of their childhood in Aman. Amrod would not have been surprised to see their father come in the hall, black from sod and smelling like brimstone.  
  
 _Do you know the man who danced with me?_  
Yellow leather pants he wore  
But my husband he wore green  
  
Do you know the man who followed me home?  
Black leather boots he wore  
But my husband he wore brown  
  
Do you know the child in my lap?  
Maja on the mountain that is her name  
But my husband's girl is Stina  
  
Do you know the one who brought me such joy?  
Now he is old, now he is grey  
But my husband lives on.  
  
As Maglor stopped and looked up at Amras who stood in the doorway looking at them, he was carrying Celebrimbor who was sleeping. "I remember that tune," Amras said and looked fondly down at the sleeping toddler. "You managed to sing him to sleep, brother," he said with a smile.  
  
"Good," Maglor smiled back and moved slightly as Nerdanel got up from her chair to carry the baby to bed.  
  
Amrod looked at Maedhros, who sat up in the rocking chair their mother had occupied, and Maglor leaned against his leg, pulling Amrod with him and Amras came to sit next to the fire as well. No, the prisoner Idun did not know his family, not like he did, they were all just trying to get their family together again, after so many of their loved ones had perished. Worst of all, they had lost their father, he who had been their beacon for so long.  
  
Caranthir made his way to the hall as well, having heard his brother's song. He too came to sit at the fire. "Sing that again, please, brother," he said.  
  
And Maglor did. Smiling as he stopped. "I am a far better singer than ruler," he mused, looking at his brothers who usually bickered and fought amongst themselves sitting here leaning up against each other with smiles on their faces.  
  
"Speaking of kings," Caranthir said, "Brother, when can we interrogate the prisoner thoroughly?"  
  
Maedhros opened his eyes and frowned. "You will kill that child," he said softly.  
  
"Brother, I implore you. We must know if he is who we think he is. I beg you to remember your oath," Caranthir said.  
  
"You are cruel!" Amrod suddenly snarled. "You find pleasure in his pain, do you not? I saw what you did to him, so do not call upon any oath. You are nothing but a butcher," he cried.  
  
"Silence, Pitya!" Maedhros barked and then he looked at Caranthir. "A week, give the prisoner a week, and let us try Amrod's approach."  
  
"You say I am cruel," Caranthir hissed at Amrod, "But yet I am not the one claiming to be his ally." With that the dark-haired elf rose to his feet. "A week," he said with a curse under his breath, "a week, Pitya."  
  
Maglor suddenly saw someone in the shadows, and recognized him right away. "Maeglin, come sit with us," he called, and the dark elf stepped into the light and walked slowly over to them. His pitch black hair braided into a single plait that snaked down his back gave him an adult air as he walked to the others.  
  
"I didn't want to intrude," he said softly, smiling at Maglor.  
  
"Oh, you do not intrude," replied Maglor and yelped as Maedhros pinched him.  
  
Amrod rested against Maedhros' leg, closing his eyes and listening to his brothers' playful bantering. A week. All he had was a week.


	11. I am the end of all your dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that Maedhros is a dramaqueen, but hey! I am PMS.
> 
> Betaed by misswilde the princess of pervyness, who was bored like shite.

Carrying the letter to Fingon, Maglor made his way through the stronghold, lost in his own thoughts. He had finished it all now, and just wanted to know if his brother had changed his mind and wanted to send something with the messenger anyway. He almost missed the little shape in the shadows, but a sudden move made him look twice. At first he wondered who it might be, but as he squinted he could make out Maeglin's form. "Maeglin," he whispered, stepping back as the raven-haired youth stepped out into the sparse daylight of the corridor.  
  
"My lord," Maeglin whispered, and bowed slightly.  
  
The haunted look in the young elf's eyes broke Maglor's heart. He wondered what on earth could make the beautiful elf hide in the shadows like that; it seemed to Maglor that he was always looking over his shoulder.  
  
"There is no need to be on your guard here, my friend," Maglor said softly, hoping that the beautiful youth would relax a little.  
  
"Forgive me, my lord," Maeglin said, and smiled a crooked nervous smile. "I do not mean to offend you."  
  
"Oh, I am not offended in the slightest, young master Maeglin," Maglor replied. He was not sure what to do with this youngster, and nor did he really care; all he knew was that he wanted to have him close. "Will you take a walk in the gardens with me?" he asked with a smile that made him resemble an over-eager host.  
  
"But of course, my lord," Maeglin said, pushing some hair behind his ear in a nervous move, but following the tall elf nonetheless.  
  
"Let me show you my favourite spot," Maglor said with an encouraging smile, folding his hands on the small of his back as they strode along. "I composed many a tune there," he added.  
  
"I see," Maeglin answered, turning around, trying to take in the beauty of the strange garden inside this otherwise large and grey stronghold. "This..." He turned back to Maglor, and gestured out towards a vast rose garden. "Who founded this garden?"  
  
Maglor smiled, feeling that finally they were actually talking, instead of him making suggestions and Maeglin being one big excuse for him. "My mother and I," he answered.  
  
"It's the most beautiful vision I have ever seen," Maeglin whispered as he followed Maglor to a bench, sitting down next to the king's favourite brother. "They look just like what I imagined when my mother told stories from Gondolin."  
  
Maglor chuckled as Maeglin twisted and turned in his seat to see everything around him. "I too have heard the tales of Lord Turgon's gardens, and I am afraid nothing I crafted can measure up to his paradise."  
  
"Oh but it can, my lord," the raven-haired youth said. "This garden is breathtaking." He turned to look at the tall lord next to him, smiling a big genuine smile. "Though I must admit I wish I had found what I set out to do - to see the city of Gondolin," he blushed slightly, "not that I am not grateful that you took me in."  
  
Maglor laughed and patted the youth's shoulder, willing himself not to run his fingertips over the silky black hair, quickly removing his hand again. "Young master Maeglin, it is only natural." Smiling at the youth, he continued. "I trust you would tell me if you were lacking something to take up your time. I would not have you fade from boredom here in my brother's halls."  
  
"Oh, I like it here a lot, my lord," Maeglin said offering a nervous smile, silently wishing that Maglor would have let his hand linger on his shoulder. "I love the tranquillity here."  
  
"Tranquillity?" Maglor laughed so loudly and suddenly that he almost choked. "Most elves would not even have our name and that word in the same sentence!" His laughter stilled some, and he took a deep breath and wiped away his amused tears. "You are indeed a strange child, young master Maeglin." Seeing the raven haired youth blush, ashamed of his apparent slip-up, Maglor quickly tried to save the situation. "What do you say to some weapons training, perhaps? You will have something to fill your days, and then no more mountain lions can get to you." Tilting his head and looking intensely at the youth, he hoped that Maeglin would say yes. "Did your father teach you to wield a sword?"  
  
"Yes" Maeglin whispered, barely audible, "I know how to defend myself..."  
  
A strange silence came upon them both, and after some time, Maeglin whispered, "but I can only get better, aye?" He looked up at Maglor and smiled awkwardly.  
  
"Indeed," Maglor nodded, happy that he finally had this time with Maeglin, and that he finally got something that resembled a conversation. He was about to say more when his attention was drawn to another elf that hurried towards them. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, he noticed Maeglin turning to see what caught his eye.  
  
"My lord Maglor," the messenger said, bowing deeply, and then looking at Maeglin he bowed once more. "My lord," he said, "forgive me for interrupting, but I could not find his majesty anywhere so I was told to bring this to you." He handed Maglor a parcel.  
  
The tall lord took the parcel, looking from the messenger to the parcel and frowning. "Thank you," he said, dismissing the messenger and looking over at Maeglin, showing his confusion.  
  
"What is amiss my lord? Will you I search for your brother?" he offered.  
  
"That is most kind of you, but no. It is the nature of this parcel that puzzles me," he admitted, not offering any explanation as he turned the roll, looking at the brand. Yes, that was the mark of Fingon; his eyes had not played tricks on him. By Eru he hoped it was good news, but if it was personal, the messenger had not been told by Fingon to find him instead of Maedhros. So, with shaking fingers, he prised open the seal. "By the Valar, no!" he gasped, looking absolutely stupefied.  
  
Maeglin had risked scooting closer, resting his hand on Maglor's shoulder. The strange look the elf lord gave him when he finally noticed confused him. "My lord, is all well?" he whispered.  
  
"Oh... oh yes," Maglor mumbled, smiling to the youth, but even Maeglin noticed that the smile only reached Maglor's mouth, and never his eyes. "We are going for a little journey. Your uncle will also be there."  
  
"Really?" Maeglin exclaimed, most of all wanting to throw his arms around the other elf's neck, but for now just squeezing his shoulder. "But that is wonderful!"  
  
"Yes, it is," Maglor said, taking Maeglin's other hand absentmindedly. "Excuse me young master Maeglin, I must see my brother," he mumbled. "We shall see each other at supper."  
  
"Oh, but of course," Maeglin answered, feeling thoroughly confused. If it was good news, then why did it upset Maglor so?  
  
"I really enjoyed spending time with you; let us do so again," Maglor said, letting go of the beautiful youth's hand and slipping from the bench before leaving the little rose garden and Maeglin behind.  
  
Looking after the tall lord, the young Maeglin smiled to himself. Was it his imagination, or had Maglor held his hand for longer than necessary? And why did this prospect make his heart beat faster? But as there was nothing more he could do, he decided to set out and see as much of the garden as possible.  
  


* * *

  
  
Running to where he knew he would find Maedhros, Maglor clutched the parcel tight. But upon reaching the stables, he saw that his brother was not there, and on asking a stable boy, he found that the king had just left for his study. Maglor ran all the way there; a part of him wept for his brother, and the other part was furious with him. And so not even bothering to knock he barged into the high king's office. "Maedhros!" he exclaimed.  
  
Maedhros looked up from the letter he was writing, and saw his younger brother looking rather dishevelled. "What is amiss?" he asked.  
  
"This!" Maglor spat tossing the parcel on the table in front of his brother. "Is this really what you wanted?"  
  
Maedhros picked up the parcel and looked it over, paling as he did so, not saying a single word; he just looked up at Maglor. A thousand thoughts ran through his head... Marriage! Fingon was getting married... he should be furious since his cousin had promised him eternal love, but Maglor was right, he had tossed that away hadn't he? Feeling a stab in his chest, he closed his eyes and rested back in his chair. Memories from a time when they had shared a tent, lying naked in the thick bearskins, just trailing fingers and tongues over each other's bodies, as though they were mapping them for all eternity. Little had he known then that it would be just that, just an old bittersweet memory. Fingon had really moved on; there was no longer room for him in his heart. This realization was harder to accept than he had thought. Composing himself he whispered, "It is as could be expected..."  
  
"Expected? Expected?" Maglor yelled, "What are you thinking, Maitimo?"  
  
"Don't..." Maedhros offered weakly.  
  
"Don't what?" Maglor raged, "Don't tell you that you were a fool? That you were the one in the wrong? And that now you pay the price with your heart-blood?"  
  
"Stop it!" Maedhros suddenly barked. "You are wrong, toron*, it is not so!"  
  
"Maitimo, my sweet brother... why do you lie, your heart so cold and scorned?" Maglor whispered, leaning in over the desk to look his brother directly in the eye.  
  
"Silence!" Maedhros yelled as he stood up with an angry move. Walking over to the window he took a deep breath while unfastening the first clasps of his robe, uncovering a chain with a ring. Curling his hands around it, he closed his eyes, trying to will his tears away, angered that his hands were shaking; his lips trembled, feeling as if his heart was torn in half. Never had he expected Fingon - his beloved, his heart - to give up on him. With a whimper he pulled the chain, ripping the skin of his neck. He turned to his brother and tossed the ring and the chain on the floor. "Write our cousin that this house shall be present at his wedding, sharing his joyous festivities," he croaked, pointing at the ring. "And when you do, send this back to its rightful owner." When Maglor didn't move or say anything, Maedhros cried, "Pick it up, damn you!" giving in to his tears with an annoyed hiss.  
  
Maglor couldn't remember having ever seen his brother like this, not even when he had returned from his imprisonment. "Maitimo..." he whispered, giving his elder brother a pleading look.  
  
"PICK IT UP!" Maedhros yelled, taking a nearby figurine of a prancing horse and tossing it at Maglor with deadly accuracy, hitting him in his chest.  
  
Standing there stunned for a second, the dark-haired elf took a minute to compose himself until he felt he could breathe again, before picking up the silver ring and chain from the floor. Without a word Maglor just bit his lip and shook his head, silently refusing to do his brother's bidding.  
  
"It is no longer mine. This is Fingon's wife's, in Fingon's house," Maedhros whispered. "He wore my ring, my token of my affection, a promise that I would never betray him. But these vows once made apparently no longer mean anything to him, and thus he can have my ring, and give it to whomever he fancies. I do not want it, nor his cheap words or his hollow promises," Maedhros said, leaning against the wall, feeling as if his legs could not carry him anymore.  
  
Maglor took a step forth towards his brother. "I understand you miss him, and that you feel betrayed, brother," he said softly.  
  
Maedhros shook his head. "Send the twins. They need to get out some, and who knows, a party might do them good."  
  
Maglor nodded. "Yes, they need some happiness, but I am not sure this is the right occasion – they will sense your tension."  
  
"Just tell him we will be represented," Maedhros sighed.  
  
"I will," Maglor said, looking up at his silently crying brother, picking up the original parcel and clutching the ring in his other hand. "Don't worry; I shall take care of this."  
  
"Thank you," Maedhros said, looking up at Maglor. "I don't know what I would do without you," he whispered.  
  
"Be at war with the world, I guess," Maglor said and risked a smile.


	12. I am the lover in your bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy valentines all of you! I made you a little romantic chapter here, and thanks to half_elf_lost for having it ready for me on time, even if she was drooling on the keyboard half asleep.

Amrod went to the prisoner on a more regular basis. And he had thought his slip-up forgotten, until one day when he brought the huddled prisoner some food and a new blanket that looked absurdly out of place in the grey prison cell. And as the prisoner took it and with a smile wrapped it around his cold, damp skin, he suddenly said, "Tell me friend, which of the names you gave me would you have me call you? Is it Amrod or Varlin?"  
  
Amrod was lucky he was with his back to the prisoner, for he could not have blushed more, even if he had wanted to, "Does it matter?" he whispered.  
  
"Yes," the prisoner said.  
  
"Caught at his own game," Amrod sighed. "I cannot tell you."  
  
"So one is false and one is true?" the prisoner whispered.  
  
"Aye," Amrod said softly, as he turned to the prisoner, "You seemed to have good use of the blanket."  
  
"Oh, yes," the prisoner said, "Say, where did you get anything like this?" he ran his fingers down the richly embroiled edge.  
  
"It was from a friend of mine; he didn't need it anymore," Amrod lied. This was his own blanket, but he could just sleep under Amras' as he did so often anyway.  
  
"Did you steal it?" the prisoner said and arched a perfect, dark eyebrow.  
  
"By Eru, no!" Amrod chuckled. "He got one that he found prettier."  
  
After some silence, the prisoner whom Amrod only knew as Idun had finished his leftovers from the night before. "I have a surprise for you today," Amrod said with a big grin.  
  
"Oh?" the prisoner looked up at Amrod with his eyes sparkling with mirth for a second. "What is that? The key perhaps?"  
  
Amrod shook his head. "Nay, I have arranged for a bath for you," he said. "We can use the bath at the barracks, so long as I follow you with a guard, and you do not have your shackles taken off."  
  
The prisoner nodded, listening to the proposition "So how am I to get off my clothes, let alone bathe, if I have to keep all the restraints on?"  
  
Amrod squirmed in his seat somewhat. "Me," he admitted in the end, "I would bathe and clothe you."  
  
The prisoner's eyebrows almost reached his hairline, hearing this. "You? Go with me to the bath? And scrub me down?"  
  
Amrod nodded.  
  
"Very well," the prisoner said, "I accept, for Eru only knows how much I need a bath. I do believe that there are things living in my hair by now."  
  
"Wonderful," Amrod said with a smile, and rose to his feet. Banging on the door, so a guard would look in to the cell. "We are going to the barracks baths, fetch the guard that is to go with us," he said to the guard. The guard left and Amrod turned towards the prisoner and smiled.  
  
Amrod cringed inwardly as they had to walk up the stairs and across the courtyard, for the prisoner kept stumbling in his restraints, and finally fell in a heap. Amrod pulled him back up and they walked more slowly to the door. As they stood in front of the entrance to the barracks baths, Amrod looked up and saw Caranthir standing on his balcony, looking down at them. He was whispering something to Celebrimbor who was clinging to the large elf's hip. The elfling turned his head and smiled, waving madly at Amrod. Amrod made sure that the prisoner was inside the door before he turned around again, and waved back with both arms, seeing a big smile on the elfling's face.  
  
Once inside, they cut off the prisoner's clothes. As he tossed them away, Amrod noticed the filthy rags had once been the purest dove-blue silk. Smiling to the prisoner as if nothing had happened, this only increased his suspicion that this beautiful youth was indeed the infamous son of Dior, son of Lúthien Tinúviel. And heir to Menegroth. Caranthir could never know this.  
  
Amrod dismissed the guard and shrugged off his robe and boots, leaving him standing only in his black leggings and a thin tunic he wore under his robes. The prisoner's eyes widened, but Amrod just rolled up his sleeves. "Do not worry, my friend. I merely don't like to get my clothes wet." The prisoner seemed to relax at this, so Amrod started with one bucket of water. "Sit down on the floor for me, so I can try and rinse your hair," he said. Watching the young elf wince as he sat down, Amrod moved around him, and what he saw there made him pale. Those angry red marks down the spine looked like burn marks. He must have gasped, for the prisoner tried to turn in his seat to see what was wrong, but Amrod just took a deep breath and poured the water over the young dark-haired elf – he could do this! Inside though, his anger at his brother was steaming.  
  


* * *

  
  
Maedhros was in his office and had just had a light meal brought to him. He tried to work, but found his stomach kept growling. So he had decided to take a pause and had moved out onto balcony to eat. He suddenly heard light footsteps against the stone floor in what had once been his father's study. Believing it was Maglor who often came to join him, he called out, "Kana, I am here."  
  
But when he saw who the figure was who emerged in the door he was not ready. "Mother?" he gasped and stood up to guide her to a seat, quickly moving to his own again. He looked down at his meal. "I did not know you were coming here, mother, I did not have any food brought for you, but I can have brought now here quickly."  
  
Nerdanel just smiled and shook her head, "Maitimo, my son. I am here on another business, I am not here to eat." When she saw her eldest son send his food a distressed look she chuckled lightly. "You just eat, you must be hungry."  
  
"Thank you, mother," he said, picking up some bread to dip in his soup.  
  
Suddenly Nerdanel grabbed Maedhros' wooden hand that was on the table next to his food, cold and useless. "Maitimo," she said running her long, slender thumb over the wooden knuckles. The sight of that alone gave Maedhros a bile taste in his mouth. It just seemed so wrong, for something as delicate as his mother to touch something that crude as his wooden hand. "With your father dead, you are in line to be the high king of the Noldor, this I know, and respect," she started, "but you are still my son, and you 'will' respect my wishes," she said with a slightly harder tone.  
  
"Yes, mother," Maedhros whispered.  
  
"I want you to go to your cousin's wedding." Maedhros must have looked at her as if she had fallen down from the moon, for she just patted his wooden hand, "and that is final."  
  
"But, mother, someone must stay behind and take care of matters," he tried with a little agonizing voice, as if he were barely out of childhood.  
  
"Amrod, Celebrimbor and I will stay behind," she said.  
  
"But..." Maedhros whined.  
  
"No, Nelyafinwë. You will respect my wishes and journey with the others to your cousin's wedding," she barked, very unlike her.  
  
The high king of the Noldor was brought to his knees; he could not overrule his mother, how could he possibly deny her anything, she who had to bury two sons and the father to her children?  
  
"Yes, Mother," he whispered and placed his good hand on top of hers and his dead one. "I shall journey to cousin Fingon's wedding if you wish it of me".  
  
Nerdanel nodded. "Good, my son." She smiled, leaning over the table to kiss the king's forehead before she left.  
  
Maedhros sat and looked into the empty space that she had occupied just moments before. How could he possibly tell her the truth; he was not welcome there. But his mother was a determined woman; she alone had had the ability to calm their father's temper. And now Maedhros knew why – she had forced him. In her own way, she had left him no choice than to cross her, should he claim his right as the king.  
  


* * *

  
  
Maglor was in the library, not because he needed anything there, but simply because it was the most tranquil place in the entire palace. He picked up his lyre and his pen and parcel, walked over to the large desk, and sat down on the corner of it. Running his fingers over the strings, he turned to scribble something down on the paper and then returned to the strings. After sitting so for about an hour, he lost touch with the world and thought about the song he was making. He didn't notice Maeglin had entered the room, drawn by the pretty tune. "You are magnificent," the dark elf whispered.  
  
Maglor was so startled that he nearly fell from the desk. "Maeglin," he said with a hand on his chest to steady his heartbeat, "You startled me."  
  
"What are you composing?" the dark beauty asked.  
  
Maglor cleared his throat and answered, "It is a love song." He hoped his voice didn't falter too much. He put the lyre down on the table and walked over to pour himself some water. "So what brings you here at this time?"  
  
"Your singing," Maeglin admitted. "I was on my way outside when I heard it from down the corridor, and I had to come see who had that amazing voice."  
  
"Thank you," Maglor smiled and gulped down the water.  
  
Maeglin walked over and picked up the paper from the desk. Maglor instinctively reached out a hand, but he stopped his move mid air when he saw that the dark elf already had already begun reading. "Oh, Maglor, this is very beautiful" Maeglin whispered as he looked up from the paper and at the tall elf in front of him. "It's filled with so much unfulfilled love and longing that it really touches my heart."  
  
Maglor blushed slightly and just barely croaked, "Oh."  
  
Maeglin put the paper down on the desk and locked his otherwise-elusive gaze with the son of Fëanor. Maglor could have groaned aloud as the dark grey eyes studied him with a curiosity that he found so sensual. "May I ask – who is the lucky one you wrote this for?"  
  
"I...I..." Maglor whispered, trying to tear his gaze from the dark elf's eyes.  
  
"Forgive me, cousin. That was rude of me to ask," Maeglin said, and finally looked away.  
  
Whatever possessed Maglor he did not know, but he took one step forward and raised his cousin's chin with two long fingers, looking directly into those alluring slanted eyes again. "If you must know," he breathed, leaning his head closer to the dark elf, "It is written for you."  
  
Maeglin could have sworn he heard that the son of Fëanor had just told him that he had written a love song for him! Him?! Maeglin felt as if his legs would give out, and when he felt a pair of cool, silken, soft lips against his, he was reduced to a soft whimper.


	13. I am the high you can't sustain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thangorodrim is the cliff Maedhros was hung up on, it's the three towering peaks above Angband's gates - and yes I triple checked. - And YES I am aware that due to canon that Gondolin would be hidden now, and Turgon not venture out. But heed the freaking AU warning: P
> 
> Betaed by Aearwen ó Romendor

Maedhros sighed, holding on to a rein with his damn wooden hand was harder than he had thought. If they were attacked he would be poorly off, not being able to hold on to the rein and his sword at the same time. How fitting for a high king who cannot defend himself! Sometimes he wished that Finrod had just left him on Thangorodrim to die. He was shaken from his musings when Maglor's voice distracted him. "Is all well brother?" he asked softly, but looking very worried.

"Aye, as well as I can be," Maedhros answered and smiled a little awkward smile. "I just worry about mother and Pitya," he said, it was a white lie, indeed, for they had an entire army to look after them. But he worried about Amrod's well being. The young elf had become more and more reserved, when he had asked Amras if Amrod had been angry with him that he was to ride and Pitya was to stay. Amras had told him that Amrod had not even addressed the matter, this Maedhros found most strange, but had decided to let matters rest.

"The guards at the fortress were sworn in oath to father, they will not rebel or harm them," Maglor said, thinking he could read his brothers torment.

"Yes, you are right. I worry too much," Maedhros said, dismissing his brother.

But Maglor was not that easy to get rid of. "It is this, isn't not?" he looked at Maedhros wooden hand. "You are worried what they will all think, that they will find you lesser because of your misfortune."

Maedhros turned his head for the first time and looked directly into his brothers steel blue eyes. "I still do have my life, do I not? How can that be unfortunately?"

Maglor nodded, hearing the boiling anger in his brother's voice, and he decided to leave these matters rest. "Aye, most fortunate," he said and bowed his head before he slowed his horse down, to fall behind his elder brother.

Maglor was right, way too right. He was dying inside. He did not want to show them, that he was not what he used to be. This wooden device made him feel weak and foolish. Who would want a high king who seemed weak? The red haired elf starred off into the horizon, frowning at his line of thoughts, and for the billionth time that day wished, he had had the courage to have overruled his mother's wish join this party. And who, who would want a lover that was not complete?

Maedhros could feel his heart beat faster and tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to see Fingon; he didn't want to be reminded of the promises that once were whispered. For a second he wondered if he would have the courage to wear Fingon's ring: It would have been in the hand, he no longer had. Many were the times when they had lain in bed and pretended that they could wear those rings, and many were the times when Fingon had slid the ring unto Maedhros ring finger. The ring finger that was now nothing but dust.

Maedhros turned his head and looked over his shoulder. A vague smile came to his lips as he saw Maglor and Maeglin ride next to each other. Maglor slightly turned in the saddle to hear what it was that their dark cousin was saying. It might seem harmless to all others, but Maedhros recognized the look his brother had in his eyes. It reminded him so much on himself. He smiled in his mind as Maglor laughed softly at something when Maeglin had leaned over and whispered to him. Just as much as he rejoiced for his brother, did his sense of foreboding darken his heart.

 

They had camped, and much time had been used on making the tents withstand the winds that blew here. Maedhros had felt terrible that he had just been able to sit on a wooden log and watch, as the others were rising what seemed like a city of tents. He looked as his own tent was raised first, remembering that tent. It was the same that he had used in battle, and properly would use again. This one his father had made for him, and he needed to agree that it was indeed beautiful. He knew his mother had embroiled a prayer of keepsake in each and every one of her sons' tents. Maedhros was shaken from his thoughts when a guard came and bowed before him. "Sire, your tent is ready."

"Thank you," Maedhros just said and smiled weakly before he stood up and walked to the tent, pushing the entry flap back and entered. 'It has even the same sleeping pelts' he thought, as he sat down and ran his hand over the soft fur. Right then he had a very hard time understanding that he was on his way to Fingon's wedding. This whole atmosphere in the tent made him almost believe, that in a matter of minutes his lover would enter with a huge grin and a bottle of wine.

But no one came, and Maedhros rose to his feet and wiped the first tears that had come to his eyes away. There would be a time where he could grief over his own choice of driving his lover away. But not now! Now his people needed him, and his brothers and mother wanted him to be strong.

He looked at the chest that was the present for Fingon and his wife to be. He did not even know what was inside; Maglor had made sure that they would come to the wedding with a present that was a kingly. Maedhros turned from the chest and walked out of the tent. He could not stay there for now, it just brought up too many memories, which he did not wish for.

 

Maglor had talked briefly to his brother, and had gone to bed worried. He seemed so sad, and to the dark haired elf it seemed, as if his brother walked in a state of dreaming, more than he was actually present. He had offered to come and stay in Maedhros tent for the night, even for the entire journey should he had desired, so that he was not alone. But Maedhros had declined, saying that he had to face this at some point, and there was no better time than the present. But the look in his elder brothers eyes, had told him that he lied. Why had he lied?

Not really able to find sleep, Maglor tossed and turned. But upon hearing the fabric that was the door to his tent swoosh open, he slowly sat up, "Maitimo?" he whispered.

"Nay" the voice said.

Maglor would have recognized that voice anywhere. And he immediately pulled his woollen blanket aside and rose from his bed. Still dressed in his tunic and leggings. This was an old battle habit of his; if the camp got attacked then why waste precious time on getting dressed. Truly, it was not really comfortable, but Maglor never did sleep well in the outdoors anyway. "Maeglin? What brings you in here at the dead of the night?"

"I... Uhm..." Maeglin said suddenly feeling stupid and unsure of the idea that had seemed so perfect before. "I didn't know where else to go," he finally admitted.

Maglor turned and lit three lights on the candelabra to brighten the tent some. "Don't worry, my friend. You did not wake me. I can't sleep either," he said with a reassuring smile, and seated himself on his bed of pelts again as he padded the space next to him invitingly, "Come sit."

And Maeglin did. He sat down next to Maglor, pulled him into his arms, kissing the top of the raven hued hair "Is there anything wrong?" he whispered.

"No, I only had a bad dream," Maeglin whispered and shivered from the aftermath of the powerful nightmare that had haunted him all night. "And I didn't want to be alone."

Maglor slowly pulled Maeglin with him down onto the bed and turned so they faced each other. "No bad dreams will come for you here, my sweet. Close your eyes and sleep."

"I..." Maeglin whispered, but was cut off when Maglor's fingertips stroke gently over his cheek and forehead, and he closed his eyes in reverie. He felt his pulse rise when suddenly Maglor's soft lips kissed him gently. Maeglin opened his eyes and looking directly into the other elf's stormy eyes. He knew they were blue, but here in the dim lights, they seemed like a raging sea. Whatever came over Maeglin's spirit to intensify the kiss, he did not know, but before he realizing it at all, they tasted each other; tongues battling for dominion and their breaths were shallow.

Experimentally Maglor ran his hand up under Maeglin's tunic, and was marvelled at the skin he encountered, was so soft. No scars from any wars, no broken bones under it all, his new lover was perfect, intact and felt most lost like virgin snow. At this moment Maglor felt terrible tainted, thinking of whom he had let touch him in the past.

And for some reason his mind wandered to the first time he had felt a lovers touch. It had been his father's seneschal, and all he remembered was that he had not even understood it before it was over. And the elf was gone, never to even smile at him once more. But these dark thoughts fled him when he felt Maeglin's soft hands run over his stomach in a returned gesture.

Maeglin hesitated for a second. Looking up at Maglor he wanted to see his expression. He needed to know if he too would hurt and ridicule him. But when Maglor looked at him, he saw nothing but tenderness in the other elf's face and eyes. So the dark elf's hand returned to its adventure up under the other elf’s tunic. A little surprised and not sure of how to react when Maglor leaned in and their lips met in a gentle kiss, Maeglin felt sweet little chills run down his spine. And when he felt Maglor's hand sneak down under his waistline, and wrap his fingers around his arousal. "Ma..." Maeglin gasped.

But Maglor just hushed him with deepening the kiss and slowly begun to pump the dark elf’s erection, and soon he felt Maeglin relax against him, and give in to his caressing. With a little smile he noticed that the dark elf's hand had stopped moving and now instead squeezed hard around his side, digging his nails into Maglor's soft skin. And so Maglor sped up his moves, his lips leaving Maeglin's and he started to place little kisses along the raven haired beauty's jaw line and further down on his neck. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, smiling at the little purr he heard coming deep from his lover's stomach.

Laying there in the dim lights, he felt a warm body this close to his own, knowing with his rational mind that this was Maglor, the second born son of Fëanor and maybe the most marvelling, beautiful and kind elf he had ever met, was touching him, whispering to him. He then noticed that since they had kissed in the library Maglor had lit up, and had pursued his presence, secretly Maeglin had been so happy that he had almost cried when Maglor had asked him to join him on this journey. And now, now he was here. It was almost too fantastic for the young elf's brain to realize.

Maglor listened to Maeglin's shallow breathing and little short moans, feeling the fingernails dig deeper in his flesh, and feeling the little droplets of blood run down his back. "Just let go," he whispered as he kissed his way back up to the pointy tip of Maeglin's ear.

And he did, the young elf let go of all that he had tried hardest to hold back, and felt his all consuming climax rip through him, arching his back, ripping Maglor's skin as he growled out his orgasm.

Maglor winched from the feeling on his back, but his heart sang of joy from the sound of Maeglin's sexual peak, resting his forehead against the darks elf's sweaty temple. While listening to the dark elf's breathing slowly come back to normal, he whispered, "Shhh, sleep now."

Maeglin just smiled as he quickly drifted off into reverie, feeling more secure and guarded than he had felt his entire life. He knew it was Maglor's arms around him, and his breath that he felt on his neck. And his little whispering he almost did not hear.

 

Amrod had watched as Caranthir had increased his cruelty when Maglor and Maedhros were gone. In his despair he had gone to Nerdanel, but she just told him that it was Caranthir, who was in charge of all, and none of them should get in his way. He was right to get the answers that they all needed so badly.

This night Amrod had gone to Celebrimbor's room, volunteering to tell a tale to the child so he would fall asleep, for he did not know where else he should go. And just as the elfling had fallen to sleep, Amrod heard the door open. He turned, expecting their mother, checking in how he progressed.

But instead he saw Caranthir. Amrod turned from his brother and leaned over in the crib and tucked the blanket tightly around the little one. "What do 'you' want?" he said more venomously than he had actually intended; he had rather wanted to say something along with 'go away' or 'I don't want to speak with you' but he knew he couldn't do that.

"Amrod, brother," Caranthir said leaning against the doorframe, "I need to talk to you."

Amrod turned from the crib and faced his brother with a baffled expression. "What for?" he asked, Caranthir would always ask for his twin, never him.

"I need your help," Caranthir said and smiled, reaching out to Amrod with a slender hand.

Amrod shook his head; he was sure what it was that Caranthir would ask of him. "He has not told me anything," he said.

"Come now, brother," the elder elf said, "We can discuss this elsewhere; we might wake up the little one if we continue in here."

The younger elf nodded and followed Caranthir out in the corridor, closing the door behind him to the wee ones room. "Alright," he almost sighed.

Caranthir placed a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. "You must come with me tomorrow." The elf made great effort catching his younger brother’s elusive gaze. "Come with me to the dungeon."

"And wha-what?" Amrod whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

"All you need to dois to ask him," Caranthir said smiling carefree, trying to convince his brother that it was not dangerous at all.

"While you, you... do what you do?" Amrod whispered, feeling a bile taste rise in his mouth, and he shook off his brother's hand from his shoulder. "No, not yet brother, please give me more time."

"To do what?" Caranthir said in a harsh tone, "You already had plenty of time, and you came up just as clueless as I." He shook his head, "Nay, Amrod. When our brother the king returns, we shall have answers." The elder elf captured Amrod's chin with long fingers and lifted the younger elf’s head and forced Amrod to look at him, "Do you understand?"

Amrod just nodded and whispered, "Aye."


	14. You're losing a saviour and saint

**(10 days later)**  
  
They had arrived at the wedding late in the afternoon. Maedhros had used the whole night before, that they were riding this last stretch, telling himself that all of them would want a king and not some lovesick little elfling. It had seemed easy enough until he had arrived at the gates. His presence had been announced by a guard – the king had arrived. Maedhros had wanted to pull his hood over his face and hide, but he couldn't, especially not now, that everyone knew he was there. This was the first time that he made a public performance since his unfortunate battle. Maedhros turned a slightly in his saddle as they waited for the large gates to open. Maglor smiled a reassuring, nodding assurance to his brother. And Maedhros only could return the smile and then proceed into Fingon's stronghold.  
  
The horses had all been taken to the stables, and Maedhros had watched as the chest, which they had brought, was taken to the courtyard as well.  
  
Maglor looked up at the main entrance of the house and when he saw the door opening, he gently elbowed his brother. "Smile", he whispered.  
  
At first Maedhros didn't know what he talked about but then he looked in the same direction as his brother, and there they were, Fingon and his wife to be. Maedhros felt as if a dagger pierced his heart, as they walked closer to them. He could see that the female elf was incredible beautiful. Now he could understand why Fingon had chosen her as a wife, as long she was as smart as she was pretty. Maedhros inhaled deeply but only his brothers heard it. Maglor placed his gently soothing hand in the small of his brother's back. His brother tried now to focus on breathing normally when the couple had come so close, that he could touch them. "Lord Fingon," he said and smiled. "My lady," he reached out for the female elf and she took his hand and curtsied in front of her king.  
  
Maedhros couldn't help but to note that her hands were warm and smooth, the hands that now touched his beloved. "Stand, my lady," he said with a smile and let her hand go. Congratulations my friend," the king stated and reached out to Fingon, keeping his wooden hand hidden behind his back.  
  
Fingon kneeled before his cousin and king as well. "It is an honour, that you will join us for these festivities," he said softly, as he slowly rose again, and for a split second he looked Maedhros deep into his eyes. These eyes would haunt him forever, and in them he saw regret but also pride. "We thank thee, your majesty Maedhros," he said, feeling his old lovers name roll off his tongue, but now it seemed more like a curse than a prayer.  
  
Maedhros just smiled and nodded. "The pleasure is on my side."  
  
Maglor suddenly cut in, "Forgive me cousin, but we travelled long and are tired and weary." He smiled apologizing so that Fingon would understand.  
  
Fingon nodded and said, "Indeed you all must be exhausted. Please let my servants here show you your chambers."  
  
Maglor smiled and nodded. "Thank you, my Lord Fingon."  
  
As a servant came and asked them to follow, Maedhros turned and looked at Fingon. He seemed to be dreaming and he had a hard time standing in front of his long lost lover, only to exchange courtesy.  
  
Hours later the festivities were at their highest. The formal part of the wedding was over, and the feast had begun. Maedhros sat silently in a corner, flanked by Maglor and Amras. They shared a toast to their cousin, but not a single word was said. Maglor recognized the look on his brother's face and frowned. He had not thought that this would be so hard on him. But he noted that his brother's eyes followed their cousin wherever he went, and when Fingon laughed, Maedhros smiled sadly, as if he were laughing along.  
  
In the end Amras left them to dance with some female. Maglor hardly noticed since he only had eyes for what his elder brother did. He had not even realized that Maeglin had left them hours ago. "Maitimo, please do not torment yourself so," Maglor whispered.  
  
Maedhros seemed hypnotized but whispered back, "I should not have come here."  
  
"He was glad to see you, I could feel it," Maglor answered quietly.  
  
Maedhros nodded absently. "The ring," he muttered, "She did not wear my ring." He turned to look at his brother. "She wore a different kind."  
  
"Aye?" Maglor whispered back with a smile.  
  
Maedhros squinted his eyes and looked at his brother suspiciously. "Did you even send it to him as I had asked you?"  
  
Maglor nodded. "Sure, I sent it as you had ordered, and I wrote even to him that you claimed that it now belonged on lady Êlethiel's finger." He smiled softly and then took Maedhros' hand. "I love my cousin dearly, but you are my brother and master, so of course I followed your bidding, never doubt me again, Maitimo."  
  
"So that is her name," Maedhros whispered. "A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman."  
  
"Maitimo, please listen, you sent him from your side, and now he went on and found himself another love. Don't hold that against him or her. You should rejoice for their happiness instead of becoming bitter over your own choices." Maglor squeezed Maedhros' good hand tight and added, "He really had loved you and you know that."  
  
"Yes, you are right, brother," Maedhros nodded and smiled, before he lifted his wooden hand and ran the cold and slick wood over Maglor's cheek. "Go and talk to Maeglin, who I believe would like your company."  
  
Maglor blushed slightly and nodded. "If you wish."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Maglor slowly got up but before he bent over and kissed his brother on his forehead. "I hope you will find joy in your heart."  
  


* * *

  
  
The feast was at its end, and Maglor had retired to his room, looking forward to a night's rest in a real bed He slowly pulled all the pearls out that he had woven into his hair. The sad eyes of his brother haunted him. He wished that things had been different, and that it had been his brother wearing their cousin's ring this night. But Fingon looked happy and that had to ease him somewhat, at least one of them found happiness. "I wonder if we cursed ourselves in more than one way," he whispered to his own reflection in the mirror while placing the pearls in a little box, one after one. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. "Enter," he called out. Sighing he watched Maeglin closing the door behind him. By the Valar, he was so beautiful that night, still wearing his robe that he had worn at the wedding. "Nightmares?" he asked smiling as the younger elf came closer.  
  
"No," Maeglin stated and didn't smile; he just rested his hands on the back of Maglor's chair. "I need to speak with you."  
  
"Aye," Maglor mumbled, returning to finish picking out pearls, noting that his hands had started to tremble.  
  
"I spoke with Orodreth, and..." Maeglin looked away from the reflection of Maglor's eyes in the mirror.  
  
"I know," Maglor just whispered. "Do not feel sad, meleth". The elf turned slightly in his seat. "I knew you would not come home with me again," the elf continued, feeling tears building up in his eyes.  
  
"And yet you took me here?" Maeglin said looking up, only to find Maglor looking up at him.  
  
"Aye, yet I brought you," Maglor said, smiling sadly. "Your fate is not at my side, I knew this long before."  
  
Tears started to fall from Maeglin's eyes "But I wanted to stay at your side, you are... I... please come with me to the hidden city, to Gondolin," he whispered with a pleading voice.  
  
"No," Maglor said determined and cupped the young elf's face with his hands, wiping some tears away from the beautiful eyes with his thumb. "My place is at my king's side."  
  
"But then..." Maeglin whispered, "No! I refuse to let this end so."  
  
"This? Do you mean us?" Maglor said and smiled.  
  
"Aye," the raven-haired elf nodded slowly.  
  
"It does not need to end in tears, meleth," Maglor whispered as he brought Maeglin's face down to his, so he could kiss his soft lips.  
  
Maeglin whimpered softly in the kiss. He wanted this; he needed this, but still, he knew he would leave the next day, to never see this gem of his heart again.  
  
"Come to my bed, my love," Maglor whispered. And before Maeglin really had a chance to answer, Maglor stood up and shed his own robe down.  
  
Maeglin's breath got caught in his throat as he saw the son of Fëanor standing there, naked in front of him, as a silent plea. And without thinking too much Maeglin reached out and ran his fingers over the smooth chest of his lover. "But..." he tried to interrupt, only to feel himself being silenced by Maglor's slender fingers against his lips.  
  
"Hush," Maglor exhaled, letting his hands trail down to open Maeglin's robe.  
  
Standing naked in front of each other, Maglor smiled at the sight in front of him, as he gently pulled his lover down to the bed, letting Maeglin fall back in the soft covers. "I envy the one that is destined for you."  
  
Maeglin watched silently as the dark-haired elf lowered himself over him, kissing him on his stomach. Maeglin had a hard time understanding what was happening to him. He had been sure that he would have been bit off and instantly asked to leave. Never had he counted on his heart's desire to share himself like this. And as the soft lips, that had sung many a love song to him, closed themselves around his arousal he gasped softly and closing his eyes to just feel.  
  
Running his hand up and down Maeglin's body, Maglor could hear his lover's soft moans, and he let the dark elf's arousal slip from between his lips. He slowly sat up and looked over the room and grabbed a flask of oil that stood on his bed stand, coating his own fingers, and then he poured a good amount on Maeglin's erection as well. He was amused over the dark elf's puzzled expression. "Shh... Don't worry," he whispered.  
  
Maeglin was on the verge of panic. He had thought that these things would not surface when it was Maglor's lips that touched him, but they did. Hearing Maglor trying to soothe him, made him aware that he appeared like a frightened fawn. So he forced himself to smile, but his body was as tense as a bowstring. This might not hurt, he kept telling himself, as Maglor moved up and positioned himself right over Maeglin's slick erection. The dark haired elf's eyes could have bulged out of their sockets. He could not believe, what, Maglor was about to do? And so he only watched as Maglor slowly impaled himself on Maeglin's erection.  
  
Maeglin's inhaled deeply as he felt Maglor push further down, biting his lips, panting. Never had he desired to be inside anyone, and even if he knew that Maglor let him claim him, it felt like Maglor was going to claim him in return.  
  
Once Maglor had pushed himself all the way down, he opened his eyes and looked at his lover beneath him. But when he saw nothing but love and surprise, the elder elf smiled. "Meleth," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss Maeglin, he planted a hand on each of his younger lover's shoulders and pinned him down with ease, as he started to ride him slowly. "You feel good?" he whispered, and caught his lover's gasp in a kiss.  
  
Slowly and steady he worked them both towards their climax. He couldn't help but to think that he should mentally map the young elf's body, so he would never forget what he had been given. And as he felt Maeglin climaxing silently he felt immense pleasure washing over him as well, spilling himself on his lover's stomach. Gently lowering himself completely unto Maeglin's body he felt the young elf's heart beat just as fast as his own. He heard Maeglin panting, trying to catch his breath as well. And then he felt something wet on his cheek that he rested against his lover's. He tilted his head slightly and whispered, "Don't cry, meleth. Did I not give pleasure to you?"  
  
"Ay-Aye," Maeglin stammered. "You are divine in your love."  
  
"Meleth, I told you that we must not part in tears," he said softly and raised himself so he could rest his forehead against Maeglin's. "Just stay with me tonight." He took a deep breath and added, "Leave my bed at dawn, and think of me fondly and without any regret for the rest of your life."  
  
"I cannot do that, I cannot leave you now," Maeglin whispered, crying harder. "I love you."  
  
"I know you do, and I love you too," Maglor smiled sadly. "But fate has different paths for you and I. And at this moment I could curse the Valar for it. Your destiny lies somewhere else and I cannot follow you."  
  
Maeglin wrapped his arms around his lover in a desperate attempt to hold him at least close "No, no... I will tell Orodreth I cannot go, I do not care for the Valar and their destinies. All I care for is you," he cried softly. "Don't send me from your side."  
  
"I would never send you anywhere," Maglor whispered as he slowly moved off his lover and got comfortable snuggling up to the warm body next to him. "I am setting you free."  
  
Maeglin didn't answer he just cried in silence, until he felt Maglor's slick tongue lick up his ear, then his soft sobs turned to soft purrs, and so they continued to share the pleasures of love until they both was fatigued and fell into peaceful dreams.  
  


* * *

  
  
Maeglin woke at dawn and looked at Maglor who was sound asleep, tangled in the bed sheet, as had he if had been involved in a fight with that piece of fabric. He watched the elf quietly – he thought he could not leave what he had here, but then he finally moved slowly off the bed and picked up his clothes.  
  
For some reason Maglor's word had made sense. But could he ever come back? Right there in that room, in the sparse sunlight, he vowed that he would find Maglor again, and some day they would unite. And until then, he would cherish the gift he had been given. He would not leave with a heavy soul and tears in his eyes. He had found his family, what he had set out for. He had never thought that he would lose his heart along the way too. And as he finished dressing, he moved over to the side of the bed where Maglor slept. "Fare well, meleth," he whispered and kissed the other elf tenderly on his slightly parted lips.  
  
And as he left the room, he did not look back. Had he done so, he would have seen beloved looking at him, before he pulled the bed sheet over his head and sobbed like a little elfling.


	15. I am your past, present and future, the pain of war cannot exceed the woe of aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some questions about the Maglor/Maeglin issue, and no this story will not end happy for them, but it will for everyone else, so just relax *smiles* - Actually it is because me myself dislike the stories where they all hug in the sunset at the end, I like happy ends just as much as the next person, but too much fluff can destroy a plot as well.
> 
> Betaed by erestorjunkie.

Maedhros had watched his brother being strangely silent and withdrawn ever since their cousin Orodreth had left. And Maeglin had left with him. Maglor had been standing in the courtyard, and even if they had not done so since they had been but wee ones, Maglor had snuck his hand into his big brothers. Not worrying about what others might think, or that Maedhros was his king, he just needed someone to hold on to. And Maedhros let Maglor keep his death grip on his hand, gently running his thumb in soothing circles on the top of his brother's hand.  
  
It had been very hard on Maglor, Maedhros could tell. Like always his little brother had tried to wear a mask of dignity and strength, but the red haired elf could see it crack. And his heart went out to his baby brother, he himself knew the feeling of choosing to let your other half go, leave with your heart and soul, and leave you behind to lick the wounds.  
  
When they had not been able to see Orodreth’s party anymore, Maglor had let go of Maedhros' hand and just turned and left. In that second Maedhros decided that they had been here long enough, this place held nothing but ghosts and pain. And so he turned to Amras, "Will you inform cousin Fingon, that I wish to speak with him?" he said.  
  
Amras nodded and left, in his search for Fingon, who had not been there to see the guests off.  
  
Maedhros had gone to his brother's chamber, and knocked on the door. But no answer had come. This worried him greatly, so he had knocked once more and whispered through the keyhole, "Brother, I will leave you alone, if you just say that you are alright."  
  
"I'm fine," a voice came from the other side of the door, a voice that sounded far from alright.  
  
But Maedhros accepted this answer and whispered, "I shall be back later." No answer came, and he walked to his own chambers. Leave, yes they had to leave. He could not ask this of Maglor, he would not be as cruel as Nerdanel had been to him. He walked over to his window and looked over the garden, smiling sadly to himself as he watched the servants take down all the decorations from the wedding.  
  


* * *

  
  
 **Hours later**  
  
Maedhros had not even been aware that he had fallen asleep, but a knock on the door woke him, he rubbed his eyes and watched as the door swung open.  
  
"Maedhros? Sire?" a voice said softly... Oh, he knew that voice, this could only belong to his beloved cousin.  
  
"Yes, I am here," he croaked.  
  
Fingon stepped from the shadow of the door, and into the room. "You asked to see me?" he said, looking at a point far behind Maedhros.  
  
"Yes," Maedhros said and slowly got up from the bed. How he hated to see that expression on his cousin's face. He looked ashamed and hurt, but all he had wanted was for Fingon to be happy. Or was it just that he wanted his own sacrifice to not be in vain.  
  
"I wanted to express my gratitude, and give you my blessings before I had to inform you that we are riding."  
  
Fingon turned his head and looked at Maedhros. "Riding? You are leaving already?"  
  
"Yes." Maedhros said flatly. "Please believe me, it is not that we did not feel welcome, or enjoy your wedding. It was very festive, and beautiful. I am afraid it is a rather delicate matter, cousin."  
  
"Delicate?" Fingon whispered and bit his lip. He was not ready to discuss this, but if they had to he would.  
  
"Yes, delicate," Maedhros said as he walked towards a chair to sit. "That is all you need to know."  
  
"Oh, but of course, sire," Fingon said, looking at the floor, feeling like he had just been dealt a blow to his stomach. He remembered seeing Maedhros being like this to others, and he had always admired that cool majestic air that surrounded him when he was like that, this elf here was not his cousin, or his lover. It was his king.  
  
"So," Maedhros said, "I hope that the present we brought was satisfactory."  
  
"Oh! it was a gift worthy of a king," Fingon said.  
  
"Good." The red-haired elf paused for a second and then turned his back to Fingon and poured himself some sweet white wine. "My mother has always been good at picking out presents," he said with more venom than he had intended, but it was just so hard for him to keep this facade up.  
  
Fingon took a deep breath and stepped closer to Maedhros. "Why did you send it back?" he suddenly asked with an impossibly fragile voice.  
  
Maedhros dropped his head, and the tips of his hair swayed on the table and dipped into the wine. "It belonged on the hand of your bonded mate," he said.  
  
"But it is yours," Fingon whispered in childish defence.  
  
The king shook his head. "Nay, It never was."  
  
"I had it made for you." Fingon whispered and stepped closer. "Don't you remember?"  
  
Maedhros suddenly turned around with an angry move, almost pushing Fingon away, but he stepped backwards by himself, seeing the lightening in his old lovers eyes. "Yes, I remember, but it was a childish dream Fingon, I would never be able to wear it, not like I wanted to, never! Do you hear me? I could never be what you wanted me to be, I would never have become your bonded mate!" He raised his wooden hand to Fingon's face. "Look at this... This vile thing... Tell me how this should carry a ring? Or touch a lover? No, Fingon, it was never mine, and I do not wish to have it anymore, give it to your beautiful wife if you please, I care not."  
  
Fingon reached up to his neck and pulled out a little chain that was hidden under the fabric. Revealing the necklace he said, "I have it here, with mine, and here it shall stay."  
  
The firstborn son of Fëanor felt his knees give in, watching the two rings dangling from the necklace. "You are a sentimental fool," he said, but his eyes and his shaking hands gave him away. "It would be better if you left them behind, or tossed them in the sea," he whispered, completely mesmerised by the silver rings that dangled back and forth, the token to prove that their love was more than just a wonderful dream he had had.  
  
"If they are mine to keep, I can do with them as I please, and I choose to have them close to my heart, and never forget," Fingon said and frowned. "Nor will I forget the heartache you gave me, and the grief I suffered from my broken heart."  
  
Maedhros looked up at Fingon, and for a second he looked upon him as he would have years ago. "I just wanted you to be happy," he whispered. "I would never be able to do that."  
  
"You should have let me be the judge of that," Fingon said, and with a swift move tucked the necklace and rings under his robe again.  
  
Maedhros reached out and caressed Fingon's cheek. "Dear cousin, look at your life now. You have your own household, a beautiful and skilled wife... and pretty soon I am sure that you will have offspring to spread joy to your heart as well." He smiled as his cousin leaned into his touch, and he continued to whisper, "Can you honestly tell me that this was not what you wanted? That you are not happy?"  
  
"I am happy, yes," Fingon whispered. "But I would have been happy with you by my side as well."  
  
"Even if I would never be able to bind with you, and that our love would be forever doomed to take place in the secrecy of the uncertainty and darkness? Forever fearing that someone might suspect, forever afraid of the dire consequences? And..." Maedhros rested his forehead against his cousin’s. "No children."  
  
"I would be lying if I said I did not desire a child of my own," Fingon whispered.  
  
"I know," Maedhros whispered. "I shall await your firstborn, like it was my own." The red-haired elf let go of his cousin and stepped back. "We ride tomorrow."  
  
Fingon looked at his youth's lover and nodded. "I will take care of the preparations for you."  
  
"Thank you, cousin Fingon," Maedhros said and nodded back. "Now, I must take care of something myself; please excuse me," he said, as the mask of the lover crumbled and the mask of the king slipped back.  
  
"But of course, sire," The other elf said, turned and walked to the door. "Sire?"  
  
"Yes, cousin Fingon?"  
  
"I am glad I got a chance to talk to you." Fingon smiled a little timid smile. "I missed you."  
  
"I am glad we talked as well," Maedhros said as he picked up his glass from the table, about to take a sip.  
  
"Will you write to me when you return home?" he asked.  
  
"When I have the time, I shall write you a letter, cousin," Maedhros said, unable to look into Fingon's eyes. They both knew it was a lie, he would not write. And they would never share a moment like this again, the next time they talked or met; it would solely be the king to his cousin, and not Maedhros to Fingon.  
  


* * *

  
  
The next morning, Maedhros and Maglor stood in the stables, waiting for Amras, who had met a fair lady during his stay, and now he was saying his goodbyes. Maedhros looked at Maglor and with a tender gesture ran his hand over his brothers hair "Take courage," he whispered. "You did the only thing you could."  
  
Maglor looked up at his brother. "I could not leave your side," he whispered, "for you are my king, my brother and my destiny." The dark-haired elf took a deep breath and looked away.  
  
"If you choose it to be so, you can still ride off, and track down Orodreth's party," Maedhros said as he let go of his brother's hair.  
  
"I curse the day the Valar gave me the gift of foresight," Maglor hissed in a hushed tone. "When his destiny lies so far from mine, why did the Valar give him a piece of my heart?"  
  
"Because the Valar are cruel in their judgement," Maedhros whispered as he pulled his little brother in for an embrace. "We are cursed, gwador. Always to seek but never to find."  
  
"Let us leave," Amras said as he came into the stables. "I shall leave here with a heavy heart, weighed down by broken promises, and not half the spirit I came here."  
  
Maedhros nodded at his baby brother. "Farewells are never easy."  
  


* * *

  
  
The party that left the house of Fingon was a silent one. Maedhros looked at Maglor, who almost seemed as he was sleepwalking, the gift of foresight, he had always thought of that as the only blessing this family had, but apparently not, he could see his brother's point. Knowing something is inevitable is not always a good thing, then why had he fought so hard for him to write Fingon? He would have to ask him when they had returned home.


	16. I am your beacon in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly I think I'm gonna wrap this up soon. The muse has left the building, so to speak. Buuuuuuuut don't worry, for those of you still reading, I might have changed the plot a lot from the original idea, but I am going to end it with a lot of smut at least.
> 
> Betaed by Erestor Junkie; the remaining mistakes are mine.

Finally they had reached home. The journey had seemed like torture for the ones making the distance. And they all wished they had never left home to begin with.  
  
They greeted their respective families and the sons of Fëanor went to eat the prepared meal waiting for them. After the dinner was consumed in an awkward silence, Amrod fled the company and ran to the dungeon.  
  
The prisoner lit up as he saw his keeper come down the sombre corridor with a torch. As the guard opened the heavy iron door, the prisoner smiled and stood up. "Varlin, I was beginning to fear you would not come today."  
  
"Fret not," Amrod said smiling back. "I will always return," he said as he placed the torch in its holder in the cell. "Idun, I have been thinking, I made arrangements for you to have a bath today? Or do you think that... that... I mean, if you want to I can remove your shackles and you can wash yourself if you do not want me in the room."  
  
"A bath?" the prisoner repeated. "That would be lovely."  
  
Amrod banged on the cell door and the guard opened it. "I am taking the prisoner to the barracks to get cleaned up again," he said with a firm voice.  
  
The guard nodded and stepped back, letting Amrod and the prisoner out, handing Amrod the chains that he should guide the prisoner to the barracks in. They worked as a team and this time they reached the barracks with much less embarrassment for the prisoner and in half the time.  
  


* * *

  
  
Stripping the prisoner, Amrod watched the wounds and scars, there were more than the last time, and one of the deeper gashes looked infected. He gently pressed a finger against the alarming red area on the prisoners back. "Does this hurt?" he asked softly.   
  
The prisoner winched and nodded.  
  
"You must see a healer. I fear this is infected," Amrod said with a worried expression. "Are you listening to me Idun?"  
  
The prisoner nodded and smiled. "Why do you worry so?" he whispered.  
  
Amrod blushed slightly. "Because I care," he admitted softly, and tried to will his eyes from the young elf's naked form. "Now..." he cleared his throat, "Let me take these shackles off you."  
  
Amrod kneeled and removed the rest of the confining chains; then he stood up and took a step back. "There, I shall wait over here, and you just take your time and have a hot bath."  
  
"Varlin?" the prisoner said, grabbing Amrod's arm. "Why do you care?" he asked with a hint of desperation in his voice. "Please tell me, for I need to know, badly."  
  
Amrod found himself looking directly into the prisoners beautiful eyes. "I... I..." he stuttered. And then he gently took a hold on the prisoner's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a sweet kiss, a kiss of virgins, a kiss of innocence stolen. And when they broke from it Amrod smiled and blushed, seeing the baffled face upon the other. "I think I might be in love with you," he admitted.  
  
"Love?" the prisoner whispered. "You speak of love?"  
  
"I do," Amrod said and dropped his gaze to the floor, it had been wrong to kiss Idun, it had been wrong indeed; he had taken advantage of the prisoners trust. And now that it was destroyed, nothing could rebuild it. He would have to abandon his new friend here in the dungeons of his father's stronghold. "Is that so hard to understand?"  
  
"Yes, no..." the prisoner said, and with a trembling hand, he lifted Amrod's face with two fingers, and leaned in for another little. "You are so kind to me," he whispered against Amrod's soft lips, "And I do believe the impossible happened, I do believe I lost my heart here in this place of despair, lost my heart to you."  
  
"Now that we opened our heart to each other," Amrod whispered, running a finger gently down over his beloved’s face, "I find it only fair we share our real names, my heart belongs to you, no matter your birth name."  
  
An awkward silence clouded the room and the prisoner looked down to the floor, holding both his hands in front of his groin, ashamed to let the other elf see the effect he had on him.  
  
"My name is Amrod," Amrod said with a little nervous tick of his hand. "I am the youngest of the sons of Fëanor; I am a prince in this stronghold." He took a deep breath. "I didn't want you to know who I was because I knew of the grudge you hold to my family, but I speak the truth when I speak of love... Meldir."  
  
For long moments the prisoner said nothing, and Amrod could see he was thinking hard. He just wanted to put his arms around this skinny frame and bury his beloved in an embrace, but he had to face the possibility of a rejection now that the prisoner knew who he was, and he would take that rejection without any hard feelings.  
  
"I am Eluréd," the prisoner finally whispered and then he looked up at Amrod, his eyes were impossible big and filled with fear and uncertainty. "I am the eldest son of Dior, I am he your brothers seek, and if you betray my trust, then I know for true my heart has led me astray and I shall die with a curse on my lips."  
  
"Oh," Amrod said. "I would never betray you... Eluréd," he whispered.  
  


* * *

  
  
That evening they had all gathered in the great hall, Nerdanel and Amrod waiting to hear about the wedding. Maedhros told the family that the wedding had been wonderful, and that Maeglin had finally found his way to Gondolin, and therefore had travelled there and not home with them.  
  
Nerdanel noted Maglor's discomfort by these words and made a mental note to speak with her son later in private, she had noted that Maglor seemed to have budding feelings, but also knew his heart and therefore suspected that he had been the force behind Maeglin's step to leave.  
  
After the wedding tale, their talk became more serious, and Caranthir cleared his throat "Maedhros, I have been waiting for your guidance in the matter of our prisoner from Doriath, without someone who is fluent in the Sindarin language, it’s hard to get an confession out of him."  
  
Amrod stood up, and instantly regretted it as all eyes rested on him. "Maedhros, please listen," he started with a slightly trembling voice, noting Caranthir's angry frown on the other side of the table. "Please let the prisoner see a healer. I have seen the wounds on his torso, and more than one is infected, if he is not treated, they could get very serious."  
  
Maedhros looked back and forth between his brothers, looking at Caranthir's determined expression, and Amrod's pleading eyes. "A healer shall be taken to the prisoner, and you Caranthir shall not have more sessions with him until he is healed and well." Amrod looked relived and Caranthir outraged, when Maedhros continued, "You, Amrod, know the language of Sindarin, so you are to join Caranthir as a translator when the prisoner is well."  
  
Amrod sat down like a sack of potatoes, he opened his mouth to object but Maedhros hushed him with a move of his hand. "It's final."


	17. I am your brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright first of all, I did not drop out on y'all. I moved house and has been without internet, therefore my long absence. There are going to be 25 chapter of this fic. Enjoy girls and germs.
> 
> Betaed by erestorjunkie; the remaining mistakes are mine.

Today was the first time in weeks, that Caranthir and asked him to attend the first session with the prisoner. And Amrod had tried to postpone this for ages. Not really telling his brother why, but all of a sudden spending a lot of time together with the baby, and smiling within every time Caranthir had wanted to use his skills, and Nerdanel had told him to wait, and just rejoice at Amrod's new bond with Celebrimbor.  
  
Amrod listened to his brother getting up and getting dressed, whistling to himself. He just smiled and kept drawing in his journal, trying not to breathe in the way of the candle so the light would flicker and he could not see what he was writing.  
  
"What are you writing?" Amras suddenly asked as he sat down on the bed, combing his hair with long slow strokes.  
  
"Private," Amrod just mumbled and kept writing.  
  
At first, Amras just looked hurt for the lack of confidence his twin was showing in him. But then he just snatched the journal out from under Amrod's nose. "Aahhh," Amras cooed, and then he laughed.  
  
"What is so funny?" Amrod pouted as he sat up and reached for the journal, which Amras gave him after a second glance.  
  
"You," Amras giggled. "Why didn't you tell me you had a lover?"  
  
"He's not my lover!" Amrod exploded and tossed the journal on the floor next to the bed.  
  
"A beloved then?" Amras said, and raised a brow. Upon seeing Amrod's chaste blush he chuckled again. "Oh, yes, my brother has a beloved."  
  
"Aye," Amrod said with a nod.  
  
"Then I am not at all surprised that you acted like a girl," Amras grinned.  
  
"I did not act like a girl," Amrod said with an even bigger pout.  
  
"And having a journal is not girly."  
  
Amrod resorted to the last thing he had, and that was to stick out his tongue at his twin. "Maglor has a journal; I dare you to call him a girl."  
  
Amras just chuckled and got up from the bed, and put the brush aside, starting to braid his hair. "Who is the lucky elf that stole my brothers heart from me?" he said casually.  
  
"Does it matter?" Amrod said with a feeling of slight alarm. He had hoped that his twin would let this matter slip quickly, because he thought himself unable to lie to his twin. Sure, he would get caught at his game. And if Amras found out who held his heart, he was not sure that he would congratulate him, no he would run directly to Caranthir and then he would surely have signed Eluréd’s doom.  
  
"No not really. As long as you are happy," Amras said and turned from the mirror to his brother. "There... I will go meet this Caranthir, and so we shall meet later Pitya."  
  
"Aye," Amrod sighed and nodded. "And Russa?"  
  
Amras stopped in the door and looked back. "Yes?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"For what?" Amras said as he raised a puzzled brow.  
  
"For being you," Amrod said cryptically.  
  
"You are welcome," the red-haired elf laughed and then walked out of the room.  
  


* * *

  
  
Maglor had tried for hours to make himself knock on Maedhros' door. He would wish that he would listen to reason. But taken his brothers mental state, as of late, he was not so sure. Maedhros was a shadow of his former glory, the trip to the wedding had been harder on him than he would admit, and Maglor could see this. But Maedhros would never admit that.  
  
Maglor opted to not knock but just opened the door, looking directly at his brother comparing some scrolls on his large desk. "Maedhros?" he said softly.  
  
Maedhros looked up. "Yes?" he smiled as he saw it was his favourite brother and gestured towards a chair. "Maglor, what are you doing here at this hour?"  
  
"Actually," Maglor said as he sat down in the chaise lounge it's a rather delicate matter once more. "I wanted to ask... nay I am ready to beg you that you do not use Amrod to help Caranthir..."  
  
Maedhros looked up at Maglor. "No," he just said and returned to his papers.  
  
"I beg you, Maedhros," Maglor said as he stood up. "If you had heard Pitya sing in the gardens, you would think as I. He is not ready."  
  
"No," Maedhros said once more and this time without looking up at his brother.  
  
"But..." Maglor said but was hushed by a hand gesture from Maedhros.  
  
"Maglor, by beloved brother, you are very special to my heart and this is why I am telling you this," Maedhros said as he looked Maglor straight in the eyes. "I have nothing left in this world to live for." He smiled a bitter smile and continued, "All I have is fathers quest, and thus my heart is dead to all else. Do not discuss this with me, I am not only your big brother I am also your king."  
  
Maglor lowered his gaze and whispered, "Yes, sire," and with an angry move turned and left the room.  
  


* * *

  
  
Amrod stood and looked down the spiral stairs to the dungeon. It was time. It was now! He took a deep breath and started to walk down the stairs, he could not by his life figure out how he should wiggle out of this. And perhaps it was not what he was supposed to do, get out of it. Maybe it was time for him to stand up to his brother; maybe it was just time for him to be a son of Fëanor.  
  
As he got to the end of the stairs he had told himself over and over again that he would tell Caranthir that he would not go through with his cruel acts, and that no elf should treat another like this. Maybe he was a prisoner, but that did not mean that he was Caranthir's personal little toy to take his twisted and dark fantasies out on.  
  
But as Amrod saw Caranthir stand there, small and talking with the other guard that tied Eluréd up on the wall, Amrod lost all his fire he had had seconds ago. By the Valar! It was Eluréd up there on the wall. And Caranthir was choosing instruments for Eru only knows what! Amrod was absolutely panicking and stuck on the spot.  
  
"Amrod!" Caranthir said with a smile "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come after all."  
  
"I...I..." Amrod stuttered, and when Eluréd turned his head and looked at him, he felt a strange white rage mingled with fear well up inside him, and he took a deep breath, turned and ran up the stairs again. He didn't stop running as he came to the door to the house, he ran out the door and into the gardens. Never hearing Caranthir calling for him.


	18. He once was a true love of mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I dumped this fic, as the first I have ever dumped. But luckily Marje gave enough ideas and together with my new mediÃ¦val bÃ¦bes cd, they kickstarted my muse, and so... I should perhaps warn that the plot has changed some, and my original ideas tossed out the window, but they were never any good to begin with.
> 
> Betaed by Erestor Junkie; the remaining mistakes are mine.

Summer and autumn left, leaving the winter to freeze the souls of the ones left at Himring. Caranthir put an end to Amrod's visits with the prisoner. Arguing to Maedhros that allowing their younger brother to participate in the interrogation had been wrong, for Amrod's soul was not the one of a warrior, but of a minstrel. Maedhros, thinking that for once his brother had spoken words of wisdom, forbid poor Amrod to seek out the prisoner; forcing the dark haired twin to sneak to see his beloved. Each time he was caught, forcing Caranthir to put bolts and locks upon every door to the dungeon. And there was naught Amrod could do or say that would change this, unless he confessed his own betrayal, and this would get them both killed.

Nerdanel walked these halls watching her late husband's lament fall apart; her sons were slowly falling to darkness and utter madness. Maglor's songs had turned sour, and Maedhros would refuse to take audience with anyone, keeping to himself. Amrod was walking about looking grey and sick, only Caranthir and Amras seemed to have any sparkle left.

This evening two strangers came to Himring, elves from Fingolfin's court, when they had been fed and bathed, a servant took them to see the high king, but he refused to see them. Claiming it was too late.

Nerdanel sat with Maglor in the great hall listening to a story, which Amrod read from a book, when the servant entered.

"My lords and lady, forgive me," the servant said bowing as she stopped in front of the threesome, "but these elves are here from Lord Fingolfin's court, yet the high king refuses to see them."

Maglor sighed before making a gesture to the servant. "Stand," he said softly. "I shall see the travellers, send them here."

"Thank you, good lord Maglor," the servant said as she rose to walk from the hall again.

Maglor looked at Nerdanel, who laid down her needlework in her lap, "I shall attend to them mother, do not look so worried."

"I cannot help but worry for your brothers' well being, at some point he must rise to his responsibility as high king. He cannot keep refusing to attend gatherings, and greeting guests under our roof," she said with a slight frown.

"I shall speak with him, but for now I must attend to our guests," he patted his mothers hands in her lap, before looking up at Amrod. "Continue your reading, I will be back."

* * *

Waiting for the servant to bring the elves from his uncle's court, Maglor poured himself some wine. He hurried to shove the letters scattered on the desk into a drawer, these he had been looking at them to try and see if he could find some indication of why the correspondence had stopped. He had written Maeglin thrice, after he stopped returning his letters. Had he found himself another lover? Had he forgotten?

The dark haired lord's chain of thoughts was disrupted as a knock came at the door and the servant showed the two guests in. "Lord Maglor," they said in unison as they bowed.

Maglor smiled and greeted them as he was supposed to before he turned to take his glass. "What brings you here to Himring?" he asked.

"We were sent here," one of the elves said. "Lord Fingolfin have sent us to talk to the high king."

Maglor turned and looked at them with a raised brow "Uncle has sent you, to discuss matters with the high king?" He looked suspiciously at them both. "I cannot see why a messenger should have business with the king."

"Oh, but I no messenger," the tallest of the two said. "I am Lord Fingolfin's second advisor."

"Might be," Maglor said, before taking a sip of his glass, "but as you know, the king is indisposed, and..."

"We know," the advisor said, "but I must insist that we see him, I have my orders."

"So do I," said Maglor dryly, but after minutes of silence he finally said, "I will see what I can do, my advice to you must be that you leave your message with me and I shall see to it that the king will get it."

"But we must give our message to the high king, my lord, and the high king only," the messenger said. "We cannot leave until we do."

"Very well," Maglor sighed and put down his glass. "I shall seek him out now, and tell him your business is urgent and with him only."

* * *

Upon returning fifteen minutes later Maglor looked furious, but never the less smiled at the elves sitting in his study. "He shall receive you now; the king has but one request," he looked at the elves and gestured towards the door, "and that is, that I too am present at this audience."

"Accepted," Lord Fingolfin's second adviser said as he stood. The messenger elf nodded in agreement and followed Maglor out into the corridor.

Entering the Kings office, Maglor stepped in first and bowed in front of his brother. "My king, these are the travellers from afar, bearing news from our uncle, Lord Fingolfin."

"Enter," Maedhros said, sitting behind his desk looking nothing less than bored to tears.

As the door closed both elves bowed, and the second adviser of Fingolfin stepped closer to the desk and the king."My king, I am Tidril, second adviser of Lord Fingolfin, and I come with a bargain from your uncle." He visibly tried to compose himself before he continued, trying to ignore Maedhros' stone cold glare "As much as your uncle Lord Fingolfin, mourned and still mourns his late brother, High King Fëanor. And as much as..."

"I know," Maedhros said interrupting the other elf. "He wants the crown and title of High King," the red-haired elf smiled slightly amused as he raised a brow, looking at the adviser almost trembling under his words. "Am I not right? Tidril second adviser of Fingolfin?"

"Indeed my king," Tidril said with a meek voice. "... But I would like to state my point, being..."

"No need," Maedhros said. "I will send my uncle word when I have made up my mind, not sooner or later."

Maglor could have cried with joy, this would take off so much of his beloved brother's burden, if only he was not king. Maedhros was not a king; he was a gentle soul, hardened by war and misfortune. Not a leader, but a solitary spirit.

"My king?" the messenger said and bowed once more. "I too carry with me a message."

"Speak, then," Maedhros said, now resting his gaze on the messenger.

"I have here a parcel from your Lord Fingon," The messenger said as he pulled a parcel from his sleeve. "May I?"

Maedhros sighed and made a haughty gesture with his wooden hand. "Leave your message with my brother, Lord Maglor."

The messenger stepped up and handed the parcel to Maglor, who took it slowly turning it in his hands before looking at his brother. "Shall I open it?" Maedhros' only answer was an annoyed nod, and Maglor broke the seal, unrolling the parcel.

"Well what does it say?" Maedhros said.

"Please leave us," Maglor said to the two elves standing in front of them. "I shall join you later."

Both elves bowed and left the room.

Maglor turned and handed the parcel to Maedhros. "Read for yourself," he said softly.

Maedhros took the parcel and read with dawning horror. "Winter solstice," he mumbled.

"Aye" Maglor agreed, and then knelt in front of his brother, resting his head on Maedhros knee. "Fingolfin will be at that feast as well, I implore you to give him your answer then."

"My answer," Maedhros repeated and rested his hand on his brother’s hair. "Maglor, sometimes I feel like you are the only one who understands my misery, as if your own heart lay bleeding."

"You are my Maitimo, I shall stand by your side always, whatever the cost." He smiled to himself, savouring the feeling of his brother wrapping strands of his hair around his fingers, as they would have done when they were younger and bored. "I made someone a promise once," he whispered dreamily.

"Winter solstice," Maedhros whispered again. "I wonder if he picked that to spite me, or if he truly forgot." When Maglor stayed silent, the red-haired elf continued, "Fret not my beloved brother, we shall leave for cousin Fingon's stronghold, and we shall stay there for the feast, bringing with us presents for his firstborn. Presents worthy of the Valar themselves, no elf shall have seen its equal, and yes, my dear brother, I shall give my answer to uncle Fingolfin at winter solstice if that pleases you."

"It would please me greatly," Maglor whispered, feeling a lump of unshed tears in his throat, listening to his brother's hollow voice. Now he knew, Maedhros had stopped caring what happened to himself, he had simply stopped trusting his heart.

 


	19. Numb

_I'm ever so lost, I can't find my way_

* * *

  
  
Winter solstice had come, and as promised Maedhros had travelled with his brothers to their cousin's feast. The greeting had been just as awkward as the last time, and this, the night before the feast should take place, Maedhros felt as he had tossed and turned in his bed for hours without end, the pillow was too lumpy, the duvet was too warm, and the bed too hard. In the end he gave up with a sigh, and sat up in the bed reaching for his robe, this night would not bring him any peaceful sleep.  
  
'This is it,' he thought to himself, this would be his last night as high king, a title he had never wanted in the first place, then why was he so tormented? Why did he feel like he was being degraded to just being that deranged son of his mangy father, insanity ran in the family. He could see them now, those who had not done him any harm out of sheer respect for his title; they would all throw rocks at him the first chance they got. Salty tears wet the inside of his hand as he wept bitter tears.  
  
Maglor sat and read a book at the other side of the wall, he too was denied the luxury of sleep this night, and at first he had not thought much of it, but as it went on he was sure he heard someone crying. Closing his book he stood up, leaving the volume in his seat as he slowly walked out the door and unto the dark corridor, there was none on this floor than their party from Himring, fearing the worst he walked to the next room and pushed the door open to Maedhros' room. "Maitimo?" he whispered as he walked in. No answer came but as he got used to the dark in the room he saw his brother sitting on the bed. Slowly he closed the door and walked over to his brother, Maglor's light elven steps not making a sound on the cold stone floor. "Maitimo?" he whispered again, sitting down next to his brother, wrapping an arm around him, "Why do you weep brother?"  
  
"I don't know brother," Maedhros groaned, "I think I must have lost my mind."  
  
"Why would you say that?" squeezing his brother gently he added in a gloomy tone. "You knew what we would find here, this cannot surprise you."  
  
"Oh, Maglor," Maedhros said. "What will I be when I am no longer king?"  
  
"You shall be the brightest of all princes," Maglor answered.  
  
"You are my confidant, my brother, my blood and best friend Makalaurë, do not lie to me in this hour." Maedhros whispered his voice dripping with sorrow.  
  
Maglor sighed. "When you are no longer king, you shall be Maedhros, nothing more nothing less, prince of Himring. A seasoned warrior who saw his share of battles, and you shall be free."  
  
Maedhros shook his head. "I shall be nothing. I will be the king who failed to rise, the ruler who was too afraid to rule. And a disappointment to generations to come, no great songs shall be made when I am dead."  
  
Maglor took a hold of his brother’s wooden hand. "Why such dark thoughts? Think of the responsibility that will no longer be yours when you hand your title over to uncle." He flashed a brilliant smile to Maedhros. "Please Maitimo, this is your decision, and even if you know where I stand on this issue, it is your decision to make. And if you do not want to give your title to him, then don't."  
  
"No you are right," Maedhros whispered, "This title was given to me, I never wanted it. And now I have the chance to be free of it, without disgrace." He paused and risked a little crooked smile. "I should take that chance."  
  
"I think so," Maglor said, "But not if it makes you miserable."  
  
"Fingolfin shall be a supreme ruler," Maedhros said. "He is a fine elf, has the spirit that is necessary to gather the different tribes to war, overthrow evil... And... He is not a cripple."  
  
"You survived Maitimo, you came back to us, a lesser elf should have perished, yet you prevailed, this makes you stronger than the dark lord himself, and you ruled these lands for long, with great success." Maglor's voice faltered and came to a slow stop.  
  
Maedhros added softly, "You did, you ruled. I was lying cold to the core in a bed most of the time, and when I did not, you were the greatest adviser I could have wanted, you Maglor, you ruled these lands. I was merely a face."  
  
"Shh," Maglor hushed his brother. "Whatever you choose I shall stand by your side, you know that. I made a promise once that I would never ever leave you, and I won't, even If I shall wander the shores till eternity as a doomed soul, I shall stand by you."  
  
Maedhros laid his head on his brother's shoulder and took a deep breath. "You should marry and provide mother with another elfling, another heir to the throne of Fëanor, my beloved beautiful brother, how come you never married?"  
  
"Same reason as you never did," Maglor answered. "Mother and the throne of Fëanor has Celebrimbor, that must be enough." He raised his hand and ran it soothingly over Maedhros' hair. "Do not speak as we are dead my brother, we shall live for many years to come."  
  
Maedhros chuckled with a hollow sound. "My sweet brother, given the gift of foresight, and yet you can whisper such sweet rubbish, I am not a heartbroken lover you must lie to."  
  
"Forgive me," Maglor just said lamely. "You should rest my brother, we shall have many meetings tomorrow, and I do not want you to be exhausted."  
  
"You are right," Maedhros said as he got free of his brother’s embrace. "Will you stay with me?" averting Maglor's eyes the eldest son of Fëanor sighed. "Please?"  
  
"I will stay," Maglor said, as he rose from the bed to walk around it, and to the other side before lying down in the rich duvet. "Don't worry the answers will come to you in dreams."  
  
Maedhros laughed softly as he curled himself around Maglor's frame and this time he drifted off to reverie listening to Maglor's heartbeat. He could be right; maybe the answers would come to him in his sleep, oh how he wished it would be that easy.  
  


* * *

  
  
The next evening they had a giant banquet, Maglor lacked his appetite even if the food was the most delicious you could find any place on Arda, poking his food, pushing it around on the plate, until he heard a clanging on a glass, and a chair shuffle as someone stood up, to his surprise he heard Maedhros' voice and he looked up at his brother, as he stood there, he was magnificent, the king of kings, in burgundy robes, making his hair shine with extra red. And for a second Maglor wished that everything had been different, oh how Maedhros would have blossomed and thrived had he not been caught, had he not been crippled both in body and soul.  
  
Maedhros looked down at his younger brother down the table and flashed him a smile, as trying to comfort, he saw the doubt and inner struggle in those large green eyes, and then he turned to Fingon. "Cousin," he said, "We are all gathered here to celebrate you and your wife's wonderful child, I wish he shall have his father's spirit and his mothers looks." The other elves chuckled, and Maedhros continued, "If I could I would give him the stars, the moon and eternal peace in his life, but sadly these are not times of peace dear cousin, and therefore," he turned around and looked at his uncle, "I shall renounce my title and hand it over to lord Fingolfin, for he is a far wiser and braver elf than I, I hope he shall reign in prosperity for all times." The court was dead silent, until Maglor came to his brother’s aid. "Long live the king," he yelled and then others joined in.  
  
"But... Wait, good lords and ladies," Maedhros said as he fumbled to get his circlet out of his hair. "No king without a crown, this circlet belonged to my dear departed father, and now it is back where it belongs, on the rightful heir of the title." he handed it over the table to Fingolfin, who still just sat and starred at the red-haired elf.  
  
"Thank you, my lord," he said softly as he reached for the circlet.  
  
"My king," Maedhros said as he bowed his head respectfully before he sat down once more. 'This is my birth gift to you little one,' he thought to himself.  
  
The rest of the dinner was eventless, but everyone seemed in a strange mood, and there were whispers in the corners, trying to figure out why on earth Maedhros had chosen this day and this moment to do something like this, some thought he had found a common girl he wanted to marry, and some that he had lost his mind, none of them guessed that it was because he just wanted to be free.  
  
Music played and the elves at Fingon's party was making merry, not Maedhros he had withdrawn to the shadows until Maglor noticed and came and sat down. "Brother," he whispered, "Are you sad?"  
  
Maedhros nodded. "Did I make a mistake, my dear Maglor?"  
  
"Nay, you did what you had to. Do not fret, brother, all shall be as it should be again," Maglor kissed his brother’s cheek before he stood up and held his hand out to Maedhros.  
  
"I am not dancing with you," Maedhros said with a little smile. "That is just too pathetic."  
  
Maglor laughed. "No, I want you to come and see Fingon's babe, it would be extremely rude of us not to."  
  
Maedhros nodded as he stood up as well, brushing his robes. "You are right, let me see the child, and get this dreadful night over with, I want to return home as fast as possible. Mother should be told."  
  
They walked over to where Fingon and his wife sat. "Cousin Fingon," Maedhros said softly and embraced the baffled elf. "My lady," he reached to embrace her as well. And after him, Maglor repeated the greeting.  
  
"Maedhros, Maglor," Fingon said. "I am pleased that you came all this way to join in the rejoicing."  
  
"Of course, my friend," Maedhros said as he smiled. "Maglor is dying to see him, can we peek for a second?"  
  
"You can hold him if you want to," the lady said and held out the babe to Maedhros, but he just looked away in an awkward move, and Maglor jumped in. "I would love to hold him," he said quickly, taking the bundle, cradling it against his chest. "What a delightful child" Maglor cooed to the baby. "Yes, you are." The infant just slept, and after some time he looked up at Fingon. "Does he have a name yet?"  
  
"No," Fingon said. "We need to think a little more, find something that fits him perfectly."  
  
"Ah, yes, a name should not be taken lightly," Maedhros said with a little smile.  
  
"Oh, Maedhros, I miss the time where Celebrimbor was this little," Maglor said, smiling as the infant curled its little hand around his finger.  
  
"I think we shall retire now, my lord," Fingon's wife said softly as she reached for her baby again.  
  
"Yes, you need rest, my star," Fingon said and tenderly kissed his wife's forehead before she and the baby disappeared out of the hall unnoticed by anyone else. "I am blessed," he said as he turned to his cousins once more.  
  
"Indeed," Maedhros said. "Congratulations once more to you and your wife. Now, if you will excuse me..." Maedhros nodded to Fingon and Maglor as he left, back to the shadows of the hall, spectating the feast in his own thoughts. Most of all, Maedhros just wanted to leave, but that would be considered rude, and hurt Fingon's feelings, he wouldn't have him thinking that he did not want to attend, or was happy for him. For he was, some distant part of him was really happy that his beloved Fingon had finally got the child he so desperately wanted, and still his soul clouded over in darkness, this was something he could never be a part of, it had been right of him to send him from his side back then at Himring. Maedhros felt most of all like he was naked, stripped of all but pride. And pride was what held him there in the shadows of the hall until he also disappeared without anyone missing his presence.  
  
Fingon and Maglor had had a refill of their cups, and had seated themselves outside. "Cousin Maglor?" Fingon said running his finger nervously over the brim of the glass. "How are things at Himring?" When no mediate answer came he smiled sadly, "Bad, I take it. I can’t believe that Maedhros just did what he did. Why would he give his title to our uncle? He is a not entitled to this at all, you are."  
  
"I don't want it," Maglor said. "I tried and failed."  
  
"You didn't fail, Maglor," Fingon said as he looked up at his dark haired cousin. "You just had a rough time, that's all."  
  
"Fingon, I have been meaning to ask you since we arrived, but the moment is just never there, it’s not even here now." Maglor paused and took a sip of the sweet wine. "Have you heard news from Gondolin?" The skinny elf bit his lip nervously waiting for an answer.  
  
"No, Maglor, I have heard no word from uncle Turgon." He reached out and laid a soothing hand on Maglor's shoulder. "I’ve heard about your heartache my friend, and I wish there was something I could tell you, but I do not know how little Maeglin is holding out in the hidden city."  
  
Maglor sighed. "You know," he shook his head lightly, "Does everyone on this damned piece of rock know what happens in my bedroom?" he couldn't hide the irritation and hurried to take another sip.  
  
"Relax, cousin," Fingon said softly. "What I meant to say is that my heart goes out to you, you did a very unselfish thing, and no doubt the right too. It is cruel to set who you need the most, free."  
  
"He stopped writing me," Maglor said lamely starring out into nothing in front of him. "I have gone through his letters again and again, like a madman. To see if I could find any reason as to why he stopped writing, but I find none." He tore his gaze off the horizon and looked at Fingon. "You would tell me if you knew anything, right?"  
  
"Oh, Maglor," Fingon sighed and drew his cousin in for an embrace. Holding the other elf tight, he whispered, "Go there yourself my friend, if you do not solve this, it will haunt you forever."  
  
"Go there? Are you mad?" Maglor gasped. "No! I won’t go there and make a fool out of myself; he stopped writing, and apparently got over whatever we had, rather fast. I should just learn to live with that."  
  
"Hush... You do not know what you are saying," Fingon whispered. "Love doesn't perish that easy, cousin. When I look in your brother’s eyes I see that he holds something else for me than contempt and indifference, I do not know what it is, but believe me when I say, I love him still."  
  
Maglor pulled away from Fingon and held him out in stretched arms, looking his cousin straight in the eyes. "Do you even realise what you are saying?" he said completely mortified.  
  
"I love my wife, and I love my son, why can't I also love someone else? Is one’s heart that shallow?" He smiled at his cousin. "What I  _am_  saying is that you should not give up, if you need a purpose to go there, I shall find one for you. So if he truly has forgotten you and cast your love aside, then you can leave again without losing face."  
  
"You would do that for me?" Maglor said with a hoarse voice, blinking rapidly so he wouldn't cry, but failed and tears started to run slowly down his cheeks.  
  
"Of course I would, my dear, dear cousin" Fingon said, smiling as Maglor drew him in for another embrace. "Let your steps on your journey home be lighter than before, I shall write you the moment I solved this."  
  
"I can never repay you for this," Maglor sniffled reaching up to wipe his tears, smiling slightly.  
  
"Oh, you can, and you have," Fingon said looking darkly at his cousin. "You held true to your promise." Maglor's smile disappeared. "Do not fret cousin, to pursue your own happiness is not breaking your promise, you should not be alone Maglor, and I hate to see you this unhappy." Fingon paused for a second. "You remind me of someone I know," he smiled bitterly and padded the other elf lightly on his shoulder. "Promise me to write me if there is anything in the world you need."  
  
Maglor nodded and fell silent, trying to digest what Fingon had actually said: if he loved Maitimo still, then why had he married that female? Why had they decided to have a child? He did not dare to ask these questions, and so they would remain unanswered. But Maglor could feel that whatever was to come, was like a tidal wave, these was not times of peace indeed, these were times of changing. Stagnation before the storm.


	20. Valley of the scars

A month later, Maglor received a parcel from his cousin Turgon. Fingon had held true to his promise, and Turgon asked for Maglor to tutor his only daughter Idril. Reading the parcel over and over, Maglor couldn’t wipe his smile of his face, finally! Finally he had a way out of this tomb. For that was what it had become since their arrival, nothing was heard besides the cold winds howling. Snow creeping in through every crack and opening of Himring, just as the cold of the winter paralysed the heart and soul of its inhabitants. And Maglor needed a way out, he felt terrible for leaving Maedhros, but Fingon had been right, it was his life after all, he could not live like this disintegrating in the shadows of Himring, this grand fortress held nothing but sorrow and sickness, like were it a living creature set out to torture its prey.

At the dinner table Maglor sat silent, knowing that he would eventually have to speak up, he would have to make them aware that he intended to leave, but looking around on his brothers and mother, he suddenly did not have the heart. They looked so worn and tired, mother in particular. She had not taken it lightly that Maedhros had handed over his title, and therefore she had responded with simply not talking to her oldest son for weeks, Maedhros had more than one night in a row visited Maglor, pleading him to talk to mother, but nothing helped, Nerdanel was terribly disappointed in her sons weakness, and lack of courage as a ruler.

Maglor cleared his throat and slowly stood up. "Mother, family," he said. Feeling everybody's gaze upon him, what did he have to say? The one that broke the long silence? "I am leaving," he just, murmured, unable to look at Nerdanel. When no one said a thing he continued, "Cousin Turgon sent for me to teach his daughter the art of Noldorian singing, and I... I intended to accept."

Nerdanel put her fork down on the plate and looked up at her son. "Will you be back?" she said with a voice that was meant to sound strong, but lacked in volume.

"Yes, mother," Maglor said. "When I have taught Idril what I know," he turned and looked at Maedhros. "Brother, come with me. Come see the gardens of Gondolin."

But Maedhros shook his head. "Nay, gwador. My place is here." He just stated and smiled bitterly, and Maglor could already sense what went on inside Maedhros. He felt betrayed, even if he had no reason to.

"Can I come?" Amras said with a hopeful look, but as he saw Amrod on the other side of the table, looking down at his plate with a sad face, he added, "And Amrod too."

Maglor was cornered, he had to think fast, and so he smiled to his brothers. "No, but you can come with me as far as to cousin Fingon, if mother wills it. For I go there first."

"Can we mother?" Amras asked almost leaning in over the table in all his eagerness. "It has been so long since Amrod and I rode out together, we could spend new-year, maybe Aegnor and Angrod come." He flashed his mother a brilliant smile, hoping she would agree.

Nerdanel sighed. "Yes." she looked up at Maglor that still stood up. "You will be sorely missed my son." She looked over to Amrod who still sat sullen at the table. "And to journey would do your youngest brother good; he has not left this place in such a long time, maybe your cousins can spark some life in you my son."

Amrod looked up and smiled at his mother, less enthusiastically than his twin. "Thank you, mother," he said.

Then Maglor sat down again, avoiding Maedhros' gaze, and silence once again ruled Himring.

* * *

That night Maglor knocked on his brother's door, but found it locked. "Maitimo?" he called out softly, "Open the door."

Long time went by and he called twice, and just as he was about to give up, thinking that Maedhros either slept heavily or refused to see him, he heard the key turned and the door opening slowly. Maedhros stood on the other side; dressed in thin pants used for sleeping. "Come in," he said and stepped from the door opening so Maglor could enter.

In this light Maglor could see the scars on Maedhros' torso that would never heal up completely, and without his prosthesis Maglor somewhat was reminded of his brothers misfortune. "Maitimo, I need to speak with you."

Maedhros reached for his glass and looked absent minded out the window. "It has been ages since I felt a warm body against my own; I thought I would never need that again, never bear that illusion that someone would find me fair. But lately I... I" His voice came to a halt, and he took a sip of his drink. When he continued his voice was thick with grief. "Who would even bear my touch with this?" he held out his right arm that ended right below the elbow. "This... this... thing."

Maglor took a step towards his brother. "Don't do this to yourself," he whispered.

"I remember it, every detail of his skin, how he sounds when he..." Maedhros paused. "Why do I remember these things, they just torment me, they haunt me in my dreams at night." Maedhros turned his head looking at Maglor with eyes red from crying. "Why do I remember being loved?"

"You are drunk, Maitimo," Maglor whispered. "You burden yourself too much."

"I am drunk, yes. And who cares?" Maedhros said flatly. "I see no reason for me not to be." He downed the remains of his drink and walked over to the bottle he had on the desk. "Drink with me brother."

Maglor shook his head but accepted the drink his brother handed him nonetheless. "Come with me, Maitimo," he said with a persistent tone. "Please, brother, this place holds nothing for you, nothing but ghosts and long lost ambitions."

"No, Maglor, this is where I should be. Don't ask me to make you understand, for you never will," Maedhros said, leaning heavily against the wall next to his desk. "Are you going after Maeglin?" he suddenly said.

"Why, what..." Maglor asked big eyed. "How did you?... Yes."

"Because I maybe drunk, but I'm not stupid. I know you did not ask to tutor some second cousin brat, even for the splendours of Gondolin."

"You are right," Maglor said softly taking his first sip of the potent liquor. "He stopped writing, and I must know why, I will have no rest until I know for sure."

"Bedazzled by the dark beauty, are we brother?" Maedhros chuckled clearly amused.

Maglor blushed and looked away, a part of him had missed his brothers teasing, and it had been so long since Maedhros had acted like the brother he used to have. "Maitimo?" he said, "May I ask you a question, a personal one."

Maedhros nodded as he poured himself another drink, swaying slightly on his feet. "Ask away brother."

"How come you don't take another lover? It might do you good. Believe me, brother, you are still fair," Maglor said softly downing the rest of his drink. He knew the answer, but he had to ask.

"Because..." Maedhros walked over and sat on the floor in front of Maglor, leaning his head on his brothers knee, "because they are not Fingon." He sighed. Maglor raised his hand and ran it slowly over his brother’s hair, smiling as Maedhros closed his eyes and smiled. "Don't make my mistake," Maedhros mumbled.

Maedhros dropped the half full glass and spilled it on his thigh, but he didn't even register it, for he was lost in a dream world where he was the one to gallantly strode in and claim his lover.

* * *

Turning in his saddle Amrod looked back at Himring. Mother had been right: it had been such a long time since he had been out riding, but what of the Doriath prince? His stomach turned just thinking about it, but and a fine layer of sweat formed on his skin, but what was he supposed to do? Betray his family? Betray Eluréd? Or do as he did, run far, far away. He could not say he was not a little glad that he did not have to stay at Himring for a little while. Even if he did feel guilty for his own cowardice, vows of love should not be taken lightly. Maybe he had broken his promise of helping, but he had not told a single soul who the prisoner in the dungeon was.

* * *

On the third day since Maglor, Amrod and Amras had left, Maedhros lay in his bed unable to sleep. No matter where he went, no matter what he did the haunting screams from the poor elf in the dungeon ricocheted of the walls, echoing in his head, but fatigue finally caught up with him, and he closed his eyes and fell asleep. In his dreams he was no longer in his bitter sweet world with Fingon lying naked on vast fields, feeling summer breeze upon his skin. No he was still trapped inside Angband. Blinking in disbelief he looked down and turned his right hand, no he was back! The pain of remembering what lay before him brought tears to his eyes, the pain, the torment and the fear. He had prayed for death, cried for his mother. But they had broken him, destroyed his spirit. Trying to move he felt the restraint of the steel. And a heart-wrenching cry rose from his throat.

Next thing he knew he was slightly shaken by soft hands, and he opened his eyes, only to look up at his mother’s worried face. "Shhh," she whispered. "It is but a dream." She ran her hands over his forehead and cheek. "Only a dream."

Maedhros once high king of the Noldor just wept, his entire frame shaking from his sobs. Quietly calming as his mother stayed with him. "I cannot stand it, mother," he said grabbing her nightgown with his left hand. "I can’t take that poor elf’s anguish anymore, I don't care what Caranthir thinks: this must end." His crying began again. "No one should have to endure that." He shook his head vigorously. "No one, not even my brother’s enemy."

"Everyone is somebody's brother’s enemy," Nerdanel said softly. "Honour is one thing my son, cruelty another."

"That is why this must end, mother," he blinked the last tears from his lashes. "I should have listened to Amrod," he whispered. "This brutality ends tonight." Maedhros made a move to stand, but his mother kept her hold on him.

"Don't do something you will regret my son. You caused me enough grief as it is, you are your fathers’ son, no doubt about it," she said as she let go of her first born.

"I know mother," Maedhros said as he rose from the bed, now that the tears was gone, and the nightmare fled, his temper rose as a tidal wave. "But I am  _not_  my father, I am Maedhros, and this is my house still."

Nerdanel just smiled at Maedhros, knowing that even if her son denied that he was like his father, it was Fëanor she saw standing there. She still missed her husband terribly every waking hour, but seeing Maedhros finally waking again, her loss was lessened, for she saw her beloved husband live on in his eldest son. She knew that nothing she did would change this tornado of rage his son was the epicentre for. But she still felt saddened when he stormed out the door, heading towards the dungeon.

* * *

"Caranthir!" Maedhros' voice bellowed throughout the corridor in the dungeon.

The door to the prisoners’ cell flung up with a loud bang. And Caranthir stepped out. "Maedhros, what is amiss?"

"This!" Maedhros hissed and pulled Caranthir over to the cell, looking in on the young elf that was strapped up against the cell wall. "Are you mad brother?"

Caranthir tried to get loose from his brothers grasp. "I... tho...thought we agr...greed," he croaked as Maedhros had his at his throat up against the door frame.

"No, we never agreed, brother," Maedhros voice dripped with venom. "This is cruel; you cannot tell me this is essential," he suddenly yelled, pointing to an iron device that was clammed on the prisoners genitalia. "That, brother, is just... perverted." He shook his brother roughly. "You are no better than those demented souls at Angband, and this comes to an end now!" Caranthir looked at his brother wide eyed, he could not remember his brother ever being this angry, and so he just closed his eyes.

Suddenly the prisoner whispered something, Maedhros pulled Caranthir with him to the end wall of the cell before he let go of his brother. "Fetch some water, you imbecile," he sneered, as he started to undo the iron chains that held the young elf up. "Shh," he whispered. "It's over." Tears welled up in his eyes again as he saw the smile on the young elf's face.

"Sirion," the elf whispered through his cracked lips. "Sirion, Sirion."

 


	21. Northern wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my I have an overactive muse, and I have set my beta on hard work. I am even beginning to brew on a damn sequel... in my head that is. I just got so many good ideas atm. I KNOW I fuck up timelines, but hey it’s AU, and I can do what I bloody well please *laughs* as long as it’s a fun story to write, and hopefully a nice story to read. And yea I admit I'm falling in love with Celebrimbor, we will see a lot more of him I guess. 
> 
> (Formenos = the stronghold where Fëanor lived with his family after the banishment from Tirion, Nelyafinwë = Maedhros' father-chosen name meaning Third Finwë« in succession, Barad Eithel = Fingon and his father’s stronghold at the mouth of Sirion)
> 
> Betaed by erestorjunkie.

Maedhros pulled the prisoner to his lap, using his right hand to soothe the feverish hot forehead of the young elf. "Shh," he whispered, as the young elf trembled.  
  
"Amrod?" the prisoner whispered.  
  
Maedhros felt a bile taste rise in the back of his mouth. "Yes, I am here," he whispered, looking at youngster in his lap, fair features graced the elf, and would have been a beauty beyond songs, had he not lain here broken in body and soul.  
  
A smile slipped over the young elf’s lips. "You came," he breathed, before his breathing got more laboured and shallow.  
  
A cold tinge went down Maedhros' spine; these had been his exact words to Fingon as he hung upon the cliff. "Don't..." he croaked, but the youngster’s body convulsed. "No!" Maedhros groaned, and with strength he didn't even knew he possessed himself, he rose to his feet, the young elf over his shoulder, and hurried off up the stairs from the dungeon towards the healers’ hut. He prayed the Valar he was not late, that this young elf would not expire before he reached the healers. But as he gently laid the young elf on a bed once at the hut, he recognized the ashen sullen look. "No! Damned be!" he cried and kicked the bed angrily. "Caranthir," he hissed, as he realised that his brother for long had known that this elf indeed was one of Dior of Doriath's sons, and where the stone was taken. Yet he had taken pleasure in breaking this young elf. Amrod had tried to stop it, he knew this now, but in his own grief before, he had not seen or listened to his youngest brother’s words. "Oh, by Eru," he groaned. "What have we become? This was not supposed to happen, the Valar pity is, and keep this boy safe until he once more can walk the white shores."  
  
Leaving the healing chambers he made straight for the hall of fire, encountering his mother and Caranthir talking in hushed voices. "Caranthir!" he bellowed, striding up to his brother with long angry strides. "I want you out within the hour, where you go is up to you, as long as you remove yourself from my sight, or by Eru there shall be another kin slaying within my own halls!" he yelled.  
  
Caranthir just looked at Maedhros with wide eyes. "Maedhros," he breathed. Frightened by the fire he saw in his brother's gaze, knowing he was telling the truth.  
  
"I know what you did!" Maedhros sneered. "You are... you are..." His anger turned ice cold as he watched his brother’s bright blue eyes, wide in horror. "Banished from here, for five years to come, do not call upon kinship, for non will listen until your banishment ends." Leaving his mother and brother in the hall, Maedhros turned on his heel and left the room heading towards his own office, he would give the son of Dior a proper pyre.  
  


* * *

  
  
Time passed, and Maedhros' only comfort in these times was Celebrimbor that had grown into a young elf, much like he remembered Pitya. Dwelling here he knew years had passed, and that there had to be a reason for his brothers not returning. The eldest son of Fëanor had used all his time trying to communicate between tribes, thinking that this might finally bring the peace these lands needed, if they could by one joined effort banish evil, and together men and elves, he was sure they were strong enough. His nightmares had grown worse over the years, tormenting him so, in his dreams Fingon had found him on the cliff, but before he could shoot his arrow, not an eagle came to his beloved to aid him, but a Balrog. Scorching his lover as he stood there, turning him into a walking torch, screaming over and over. And him hanging there, unreleased to a grim ending. Sometimes he even woke having pains in the hand that was now not naught but dust.  
  
This morning he woke bathed in sweat, tumbling out of bed, wrapped in his own bed linen, the screams of Fingon roaring in his ears, even the smell of burning flesh lingered in his nostrils. It took him along moments to collect himself, as were he coming out of a trance, he laid his head back on the madras and closed his eyes. How pathetic and alone he felt right then, remembering how Fingon had wrapped his arms around him, and kissed the corner of his mouth, trailing a soft path down over his column to his shoulder. 'Nightmares, meleth, they are just nightmares' he would whisper tenderly, for years and years he had dreamt of swords cutting flesh, flames and screams. Those dreams had fled for a far worse one. Maedhros smiled bitterly to himself as he recalled the last time they had seen each other as lovers, the tent had been warm, and Fingon had been edgy and desperate in his need. That was such a long time ago, sometimes it felt like aeons, or like it never happened.  
  
Hard knocking on the door shook him from his dark thoughts. "Enter," he called out loud, but did not move.  
  
The door opened and a young elf came in, shuffling his feet nervously as he saw his lord sit only dressed with linen on the floor. His red hair tussled from sleep, and his white skin almost glowing in the early light, the poor young messenger was lost in the sight, for even if his body was scarred Maedhros was still counted amongst the fairest of the Quenya.  
  
"What? Speak boy," Maedhros said with a slightly amused smile as the boy blushed, being made aware that he had been starring.  
  
"A messenger arrived from Lord Fingon," he said and smiled nervously. "He left in haste, but passed a parcel for you, my lord."  
  
"I see," Maedhros said, still amused over the boy's nervousness. "Pray tell, what is your name, boy?" he asked with a devious hint in his grey eyes.  
  
"Polod, my lord," he said, brushing ferociously.  
  
Maedhros rested his good hand on the floor and turned, his long red hair dancing across the floorboards; he tilted his head up and looked at the boy with a suggestive smile. "Say, Polod, do you find me fair?"  
  
The poor young elf nodded. "The fairest, my lord," he croaked.  
  
Maedhros slowly rose to his feet, holding on to the bed linen. "Come here," he said, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind as the young elf came closer. Looking straight into the young elves large green eyes, Maedhros smiled. "Touch me," he whispered as he let the linen fall, pooling around his feet. The young elf reached a shaky hand out and ran his fingertips over Maedhros' arm. Shaking his head Maedhros chuckled, not sounding amused at all. "No, like you would your lover," he whispered, grabbing the young elf’s slender hand and caressing his own chin with it. Feeling Polod's hand tremble, disgusted with himself as he felt his pulse rise, and blood run to his groin, the young elf’s fear, turned him on.  
  
"Pl... Please, my lord," Polod whispered. "I cannot." The young elf trembled even more.  
  
Shaken from his pleasant spell, Maedhros tightened his hold on the young elf’s hand, crushing it. "And why not? Were it not you that looked at me that way, no doubt thinking what my mouth felt like on your skin, or did you wonder how I looked as you would ram yourself into my hot willing flesh?" His voice had taken a tone of annoyance and anger.  
  
"Not at all, my lord," Polod answered desperately, afraid to move, but his hand hurt badly. "I mean... Forgive me my lord, but you are hurting me."  
  
Maedhros let go of the youngster's hand, and sat down on the bed again with a bump. "Leave me," he whispered.  
  
"But, my lord," Polod said taking a step forth.  
  
Maedhros just shook his head. "Leave the parcel here with me, and just go," he said with a tired voice.  
  
"Will you not at least hear me out, my lord?"  
  
"And why should I?" Maedhros said, rubbing his face with his hand, looking fatigued.  
  
Polod took yet another step closer. "Because you might want to hear what I say, my lord." He kneeled at his lord’s feet, looking up at the red-haired elf. "I am in love with someone," he whispered. "A close kin of yours, and therefore I cannot share myself with you, even if I want to. You are most fair, my lord, and your offer are beyond any dream of mine. But I cannot betray the one whom I love." When Maedhros looked down at him he looked puzzled. "My lord," Polod said.  
  
"Celebrimbor?" he asked.  
  
Polod nodded and blushed yet again. "Yes, my lord."  
  
"Does he return these feelings of yours?" Maedhros asked, raising the youth's head with two fingers under Polod's chin.  
  
"Aye, he told me so," Polod stammered, his throat moving compulsively.  
  
A soft look graced Maedhros' features. "Then go to him, take the rest of the day off, and go to him." He had almost added, 'And make him happy,' but he didn't. He just caressed the young elf’s chin tenderly. "Run along now," he said.  
  
Polod looked absolutely stunned, but nodded eagerly before he hurried from Maedhros' chambers. Leaving the prince to his own thoughts. Maedhros found it strange, but amusing that Celebrimbor was really that old, it seemed like yesterday Amrod had found him at the gate. With a sigh he flopped back on the madras, closing his eyes as he reached down between his legs, encountering his flaccid member. But his mind wandered off as he ran his fingers up and down the silken skin, and it soon became as hard, spreading his legs further he ran his hand down under his sacks, breaching himself with a finger, little stars of lust spiralled up, and the red haired elf hissed from the sensation. "Fi..." he whispered, moving his hand back up, taking his member in his hand, stroking it with an unmerciful pace, finding his release quickly.  
  
Later when he had had a bath, and had been dressed for the day's duties, he suddenly saw the parcel lying on his desk. Walking over he picked it up, broke the seal and unrolled it, reading with dawning dread the news from his cousin.  
  
Maitimo.   
  
The babe has fallen ill, and my wife is bedridden with worry. My healers cannot tell me what is amiss with the wee one. They only stutter when they tell me we should give him a name soon. Maitimo my dear, dear friend, I call upon you in this my hour of need. Morgoth's hordes have attacked Barad Eithel. Many have been lost, my father disagrees, but we cannot hold this storm on our own. Fret not my friend, your brothers live still, Russa have even found love here, but it shall all be in vein if we listen to my father, help us. For the sake of Eru! I believe him to have gone mad. If not for me, then for the sake of my son, and your brothers, we need aid.  
  
Fingon.  
  
Maedhros' eyes grew big. Attack? For how long had this been going on? Why had he not been told until now? "By Eru!" he said to himself, before he hurried out of the room, clutching the parcel. "Celebrimbor!" he yelled "Celebrimbor! Get dressed, we ride now!"  
  
Celebrimbor tumbled highly ungracefully out of his rooms, looking half asleep. "Maitimo? My Lord?" he said with a hoarse voice, blinking confused at the tall elf.  
  
"We ride now!" he just said, but couldn't help but to smile as he saw Polod in the bed in the far end of Celebrimbor's room, pulling the sheet over his head, hiding in the sheets. His nephew opened his mouth to speak, but Maedhros just silenced him with a shake of his head. "Save the questions for the trip, we have days of hard riding before us. Get ready, now!" he said with a stern voice.  
  


* * *

  
  
As promised the ride was long, cold and hard. Maedhros had gathered whatever of his army that was not strictly needed to guard Himring and Nerdanel. Setting up camp at night pained Maedhros, and this night more than the others, in the morning they would be at the stronghold. He just wanted to go on, push through the night and come save Fingon. But he knew his marshal was right, he could not risk tiring the warriors and animals so. And on this the last night before battle, he was in a fell mood. Every elf avoided him, only entering his tent if they strictly had to. And as he sat in his large wooden chair and starred into the fireplace at the middle of the floor, he heard the tent flap open, and soft footsteps come in. "My Lord? Uncle?"  
  
Maedhros turned in his chair, seeing Celebrimbor standing in the shadows, as he stood there he looked like Curufin, and he felt a pang of grief for his dead brother. "Child," he said with a warm smile, "What brings you here?" he reached out with his right hand and gestured for the youth to step closer.  
  
Celebrimbor came up and sat cross-legged on the ground next to his uncle. "Grandmother gave me my father’s tent," he stated with a strange hollow voice. "What was he like, uncle?"  
  
"He was my brother and I loved him dearly," Maedhros said. "He was the most skilled swordsman I ever saw." He looked down at the young elf. "He would have been a great father to you; unfortunately he never had the chance."  
  
Celebrimbor shook his head sadly.  
  
"These are strange times my child," he whispered as he placed his hand on the youth's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Cry not for those long perished, find your faith in the ones that prevail." He winked and smiled. Celebrimbor blushed, and Maedhros whispered, "He is fair and just."  
  
"How did you?..." Celebrimbor said with a low voice.  
  
"I just do penneth," Maedhros said with a fatherly smile. "Fight with all your spirit, you have a warm bed and the touch of a lover to return to."  
  
Celebrimbor smiled. "I do, don't I?"  
  
Maedhros chuckled and whacked the youngster over the neck softly. "Oaf," he teased. Celebrimbor chuckled too, but quickly fell silent and serious again.  
  
"Uncle, can I ask you something?" he said, Maedhros nodded and Celebrimbor continued, "In all these years, I have never seen you with a lo... Lo... Someone special, to keep the long hours at bay, how come?"  
  
Maedhros sighed. "Oh, I did have someone special once, when I was at your age," he absentminded bit a nail before he spoke more, "But that is such a long time ago, when we were still at Valinor."  
  
"You left her at Valinor?" Celebrimbor gasped.  
  
"Him, not her. And no I didn't, he and I were lovers still at these shores for some years."  
  
"What happened?" the youth said, mouth agape, trying to imagine his uncle as a youth in love.  
  
"What happened?" the red-haired elf sighed, and felt old, weary to the bones. "We got older." He knew he lied, but it didn't matter, there was no use of laying the truth on the child. "Don't worry about old tales like that, you should rest now, we have much to do in the morn, and you need all the strength you have in you."  
  
"Uncle, can I sleep in here? I don't like being alone in that tent," Celebrimbor whispered, hoping he would not be ridiculed.  
  
"Of course, penneth!" Maedhros said with a smile, remembering how frightened he had been when he had been but a little older than Celebrimbor, and they were all banished to Formenos. He would have given everything to curl up next to his father. "When I was a child," he said to himself, knowing Celebrimbor lay in bed and listened. "I lived in a wonderful place, mother had to repair my clothes endlessly," he said. "I must tear them on purpose, whereas Maglor did not ruin his clothing as fast as I." He was always mother's favourite, but as father returned. He would embrace me first, I still remember that special smell of brimstone and sweat, and I thought it the most wonderful smell in the world. And as he smiled he smiled just for me. 'Nelyafinwë' he would say. Only he ever called me that." Maedhros stopped and listened, the youth's breath had steadied fast asleep. He smiled to himself as he rose from the chair and went to the bed and lay down next to his nephew, tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow my heart, we will be there.


	22. My spirit sleeping somewhere cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said on my LJ this will be the last from me for now. I have to be without Internet for some time, 2 months or so. But I promise I will return with some stuff for you. The end of both DBTW and Winterborn.
> 
> Thangorodrim = The three mighty peaks that Morgoth raised from the Iron Mountains above the gates of Angband, and from the middle peak he hung Maedhros from his right wrist, as a punishment.
> 
> Betaed by erestorjunkie

When they arrived, Maedhros first thought it was a bad dream. The stronghold was almost empty, only a few orcs scattered about, trying to pry the corpses of those slain. Maedhros jumped off his horse and ran into the building, calling for his cousin, feeling fear well up inside, dread capturing his soul in a death-grip. "Fingon! Fingon!" he called over and over, running from room to room. Upon entering what he knew to be his cousin's bedrooms, he saw a figure on the floor lying tossed aside in a pool of blood, he quickly walked over, and as he turned the dead body he saw it was Fingon's wife. "Oh Eru!" he whispered, letting go of her arm, the dead elven lady fell down with a thump into the pool again. At first Maedhros was just scared that Fingon was injured, and then dreaded his passing, but now. Now his blood turned to ice, believing his beloved cousin was a prisoner. There were some things worse than death, he thought to himself. "Fingon" he cried. Climbing to his feet, ready to run again, when he saw the open door, tip toeing there, he peeked inside, his weapons drawn. "Fingon?" he whispered, waiting for an answer or an attack. Then he heard it, a soft wailing. The babe! Tossing caution at the wind Maedhros stepped into the poorly lit room, seeing soft toys and a crib, ah the child's room, he thought to himself.  
  
Searching the room he pushed the crib aside, and there, against the wall he saw it. "Fingon!" he gasped tossing his sword, Fingon sat with his eyes closed against the wall, leaning on his side, as had he been protecting something, a deep gash bled from his side, and yet another from his arm. With shaking hands Maedhros touched his cousin's neck searching for a pulse, when he found one he felt tears starting to fall from his cheeks. Turning Fingon so he had his back against Maedhros' chest, he gently pried the precious cargo, which Fingon had been protecting, with his life. The babe. He offered the child his knuckle to suck, to keep it quiet.  
  
"Maedhros! My Lord!" he heard someone call from the corridor.  
  
"Here," he yelled, "Come quick, I need help, the king’s son is alive."  
  
Celebrimbor and two soldiers came rushing into the nursery and the youth fell to his knees next to Maedhros, leaving the two soldiers at the door. He didn't say anything; he just gently lifted the child from Fingon's protective arms. He looked up at his uncle, not saying a word, his eyes asking the question his lips would not pass. "He lives," Maedhros said with a strange raw voice, "For now."  
  
The youngest Fëanorian stood and cradled the baby in his arms. "Get the blanket," he said to one of the soldiers. "The one with the silver stars." The guard handed Celebrimbor the dark blue blanket with silver stars, and the youth quickly wrapped it around the child. "I shall go to my tent with the wee one," he said with a soft voice.  
  
As he turned to leave Maedhros said, "Ask Fárëa. His wife had three babes, he will know what to do."  
  
"I will," Celebrimbor said as he strode out of the nursery with grim determination.  
  
"My Lord?" one of the soldiers said as he stepped closer. "I have word from your brothers, Lord Amras and Lord Amrod. They are both alive and unharmed."  
  
"Thank you, tell them I shall see them later," Maedhros said with a thin voice. "You two, help me get Lord Fingon to my tent."  
  
"But my lord, he is..."  
  
"NO!" Maedhros snapped, turning his head to face the soldiers. "He lives, and he is to be taken to my tent, and lies in my bed. Now!"  
  
The soldiers went to pick up Fingon when Maedhros swatted away their hands. "I changed my mind, I shall carry him myself," he said with a flat tone. He stood up with a laboured move and with great difficulty picked up Fingon, the soldiers tried to help, but Maedhros wouldn't allow it.  
  
Seeing Amrod and Amras once they came to the campsite, they helped their elder brother getting into the tent. And Maedhros lay Fingon down as gently as he could. "Brother," Amrod said, "You might not need my counsel on this one, but please let me fetch a healer for our cousin." Maedhros didn't answer, but Amras picked up where his twin left off, laying a hand on Maedhros' shoulder. "Pitya is right, cousin Fingon needs medical treatment if he is to survive."  
  
Maedhros ran a hand over his cousin's black hair, now covered in blood. "Who did this to you?" he whispered. Feeling nauseous as he looked upon his old lover's broken body, it brought back unwanted memories. He ran his hand along Fingon's chilly cheek down to his neck where he encountered the fine silver chain, pulling it gently he saw the rings still there, all this time. And his cousin still carried these next to his heart.  
  


* * *

  
  
The healers managed to nurse Fingon until they were fairly sure he would survive the journey to Himring. The journey in itself was eventless and in silence, in addition to their precious cargo of the high king's son and grandson, they also had Amras' newfound love with them. Counting no casualties amongst their own army, they all just ached to see Himring's grey walls as quickly as possible.  
  
Nerdanel stood alone as the cortege came through the great gates, her heart heavy with apprehension, no messenger had reached her to tell her that her sons were alive and well, but when she saw the twins she let out a breath she had not even aware that she had been holding. Amrod and Maglor went to greet their mother as the first thing. Amras keeping back, not knowing how his mother would react upon him courting this maid. Nerdanel on the other hand came over to where Amras stood, and buried her son in an embrace, meaning so much more than any words. "Mother?" Amras whispered letting go of her, still holding on to her hands, "I have something to say to you, but I fear this is not the moment." He blushed a little and looked at his feet.  
  
"My dear son, there is never a fell time for news of the reason for your smile," she said smiling herself, upon seeing Amras smiling a little timid smile.  
  
"Mother, when I was at Fingolfin's court, I lost my heart." He paused and looked at Nerdanel. "I brought her with me, for I do love her dearly." Squeezing his mother's hands Amras looked at his feet again. "I realise that the bond I wish to share with her, has no political or financial gain for our family... but..."  
  
"Shh," Nerdanel hushed her son. "Look at me Amras," she said, and her son looked up meeting her gaze. "You have yet to tell me your beloved's name."  
  
"Rukima," Amras whispered, trying his hardest to keep his mothers gaze.  
  
"Ah," Nerdanel said with an understanding nod. "And where might she be?"  
  
"Here, milady," a little voice said, as a black-haired young elf maid stepped out behind Amras. "I am Rukima," she curtsied and blushed under Amras' acknowledging smile.  
  
Nerdanel looked at the maid with a calculated smile. "I am Nerdanel, mother of Amras, and wife of Fëanor." Seeing the girl pale a little she patted Amras' hand and let go of her son. "You are free to stay for now, young Rukima," she said with a motherly smile. "I am sure Amras will help you get acquainted with the premises and customs here."  
  
"Yes, thank you, milady," Rukima answered, and Amras just leaned over and kissed his mothers cheek. "I love you mother," he whispered, before he grabbed Rukima's hand about to walk off with her, when Nerdanel's voice stopped him.  
  
"Amras, where is Maedhros, where is my eldest son?"  
  
"He rode beside one of the wagons for the entire trip, I have not seen him since our arrival," Amras answered before whisking off with his lady.  
  
Nerdanel gave up finding her elusive son, and walked back into the stronghold. Only to be met by Maglor who lingered at her door together with Celebrimbor. "Mother, please share a moment with us," Maglor said in an odd stiff voice. Nerdanel, sensing something wrong, just knitted her eyebrows but opened the door and let them in to her private chambers. Gesturing for them to sit, she seated herself in her favourite rocking chair, waiting for Maglor to speak.  
  
"Uncle Fingolfin's stronghold was utterly destroyed, everyone missing, kidnapped or killed," Maglor said with a low soft voice, "all but some. Maedhros came upon cousin Fingon, and his child, they both lived." He looked at Celebrimbor for a second, and then back to his mother before continuing. They are very weak, but we brought them here."  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" Nerdanel said with a cold voice.  
  
Celebrimbor pulled the blanket of the bundle he was carrying to the side a little, and a little child was revealed. Nerdanel felt her heart ache, as the wee one looked more like a birds young, than a baby. "He needs a name," Maglor said with a little voice, he needed not explain more, they all knew what he meant, this child was dying, and no soul should perish from this earth without a name, if it had no name to give the great Vala Námo, then he should not be able to welcome it into his halls.  
  
Nerdanel stood up and gently pried the child from Celebrimbor, she looked down at it and smiled as the child opened his big blue eyes and looked directly at her. "There is hope for you yet, descendant of great kings." Maglor came to look over Nerdanel's shoulder, at the child in her arms, for less than a minute ago they had all just waited for him to stop breathing, and now the wee one smiled and reached out for Nerdanel's face. "From this day on, you shall be known as Ereinion," she whispered.  
  
"Ereinion," Maglor whispered smiling at the baby. "Yes, there is hope for you still little star."  
  


* * *

  
  
Leaving the baby fed and sleeping with Maglor, Nerdanel made her way to the healers' house. News had reached her that her son would linger here, and that this was the reason that he had not come to see her yet. But what she saw upon entering the dimly lit house she had not been prepared for, Maedhros sitting on a chair resting his upper body on the side of a cot, where another elf lay, ashen and close to leaving his earthy shell. She stepped closer and now she could see it was indeed Fingon. "Maedhros," she whispered, and her son stirred on the bed. "Maedhros," she repeated softly, and awareness stirred in his eyes.  
  
"Mother?" he whispered, he sat up and stretched his back, clearly in pain from being seated in so uncomfortable a position for so long. "The child?" he asked as he rubbed his arms.  
  
"Is well for now," she said with a smile, knowing this would please Maedhros. "My son, why don't you go sleep? And I shall watch your cousin."  
  
"No," Maedhros said, taking a hold of Fingon's cold hand rubbing it gently. "He saved me, when all others lost hope, including me. I will not abandon him now."  
  
"Your brothers never lost hope," Nerdanel said as she sat in the far end of Fingon's bed. "Nor did I."  
  
"You are no adept liar mother," Maedhros whispered as he rubbed his cheek with his cousins limp hand, "He  _came_  for me mother," the red-haired elf said with a strained voice, it was like a little prayer in itself and Maedhros did not care explain further.  
  
Nerdanel stayed silent and watched her son caress his cousin’s hand. "I named his son Ereinion," she finally said, at loss for word.  
  
"That is a powerful name," Maedhros whispered.  
  
Nerdanel nodded. "Rightfully worn by a powerful soul. That child is a fighter Maedhros," she said. "He should have perished a hundred times over, from lack of correct food, cold, loss of his mother, trauma to the head, shock even."  
  
"He is Fingon's heir," Maedhros said with a little smile, "Loved by the Valar."  
  
"Son," Nerdanel said as she reached in over Fingon, and with two slender fingers forced Maedhros to look up and directly into her face. "Stop tormenting yourself so. You and your brothers are different from other elves, you have but this one chance to do everything right, your cycle of rebirth is cut off from you. Believe me, could I somehow change the Valar's doom over you, my sons. I would!" Nerdanel smiled a little strained smile. "You my son, you have to make every minute count, you do not have the sweet promise of a glorious afterlife in the halls of waiting."  
  
Maedhros didn't answer his mother, but unshed tears of fatigue and fear welled up in his eyes.  
  
"Had the Valar truly hated you, they would have struck you down at the very shore of Valinor," Nerdanel said softly, brushing a tear from her son's cheek with a thumb. "Trust me, Maitimo, your part in shaping this world is not over unless you will it so."  
  
"I was so afraid, mother," Maedhros whispered, closing his eyes.  
  
"Of what, penneth?" Nerdanel asked.  
  
"T...That he would be repulsed of what I had been reduced to," Maedhros whispered barely audible, "That he would stop loving me, that he would wish he had just granted me my wish upon Thangorodrim." He opened his eyes and looked at his mother, feeling weary to the bone, and in need of a confession, he had held this inside for too long. "For as long as I remember there has been no other in my heart."  
  
Nerdanel winced as Maedhros looked away from her, and she raised his chin again. "My son, I pass no judgement upon love, love in its purest intentions is more powerful than anything, even more powerful than the great Valar of Mandos."  
  
Maedhros felt relieved tears starting to steam down his cheeks as he turned his face to kiss his mother's hand. "I love you Nana," he whispered.


	23. I'm always singing it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! This fic is not the longest, but the goddamn slowest one I ever wrote. And even if I love Winterborn, my first big Silmarillion project. Then I will be glad when it's finished, both for the rush of a finished fic of course, but also that I really want to write something else. I just can't stand the idea of dumping a fic. And I still have all Marja's loverly notes to work from. If there is one thing I learned in the process of writing this, it must be, write the damn storyline before you write the fic's first chapter. It stinks going dead in the middle... slashus fictus interuptus -laughs- never mind that! I still got 2 chapters left in me for this fic, and here we go -smiles- and three cheers for my laptop, heh allows me to keep a better eye on my kids *wink*

In the middle of the night, Maedhros woke from the baby crying, knowing how fatigued his mother had looked, he got out of his bed, walking directly to the child's room, he smiled as he entered; these had been Celebrimbor's chambers as a babe too. Seeing his mother sleeping in a chair, Maedhros gently shook Nerdanel's shoulder. "Mother?" he said softly.  
  
Nerdanel opened her eyes, blinking confused. "Maitimo," she whispered. "Oh. The baby," she said once she was more aware of her surroundings, moving to get up.  
  
"Go sleep, mother," Maedhros said, smiling at his mother, who smiled gratefully at her son. Maedhros reached down into the crib with his left arm, not having taken his prosthesis on, not that he would actually ever touch another living creature with it, even less a babe. Holding the babe, he used what was left of his right arm, to push the blanket up around the infant. "Hello there, I am your uncle," he whispered. The baby stopped crying being rocked, and someone talked to him, Ereinion started to coo and drool with a stupid grin on his face. This had Maedhros chuckling. "It is the middle of the night, child. You are supposed to sleep." But the baby didn't care, he just grinned more. And in the end Maedhros gave up. "Come, penneth, shall we see if we can find you some milk?"  
  
Pushing the door open with his foot, Maedhros made his way to the kitchen, waking up the kitchen maid as he rammed into some pots that went to the floor with a huge crash. Smiling a little embarrassed smile as the kitchen maid came into the kitchen in her nightgown with a lantern. "Forgive me; I didn't see where I went."  
  
"Lord Maedhros," the kitchen help said courting her lord.  
  
Maedhros just smiled. "I am afraid I need some help," he said, smiling his most charming smile. "Ereinion seems to be hungry, and... uhm... I don't know how to make him something to feed of."  
  
The kitchen maid smiled. "But of course, sir, right away." She hurried off and juggled with milk, and boiling water and all kinds of gizmos that made Maedhros' head reel by the sheer thought of having to do that himself, he would never have gotten past the, 'let’s wake the maid,' anyways. But never the less, a moment later, the female elf reached out a bottle for the baby, blushing ferociously as it occurred to her that Maedhros could not receive it.  
  
"Here," he said lifting his arm stump from the blanket. The kitchen help did as she was told, and Maedhros smiled, trying to save the poor female elf from more embarrassing moments. "Would you open the door please?" he said. The poor kitchen aid, paled. Frightened that her lord would soon be furious with her, and hurried to open the door. Maedhros turned in the door, and smiled at the female elf. "Think nothing of it." He was about to say, 'I am used to it,' but he thought it was just smarter to leave the poor woman to her sleep. Once in the corridor, he smiled down at Ereinion. "Let us go and feed you."  
  
Once up, he noticed there was a fire in the grand hall. Curious he went there, finding Fingon sitting in a rocking chair. Maedhros smiled to the baby. "Look, your papa is sleeping. Sshhhhh." He went and sat by the fire, but as soon as he sat down, the enfant began to whine. And he had to stand in order to hush him up, looking over at Fingon who still slept, Maedhros smiled. He had missed his cousin immensely, and just seeing him sitting him there, had butterflies well up inside him, sorrow and joy in one mingled emotion. But finding him asleep Maedhros slowly begun to sing to the bay, dancing to himself on the spot, at first Ereinion found it very amusing, but when it continued he yawned, and slowly started to close his eyes. Maedhros stood in front of the fire with the baby, lost in his success of dancing the baby to sleep. He didn't notice that Fingon had wakened from his sleep, watching them.  
  
Fingon couldn't help but to smile at the vision, he couldn't remember he had ever seen Maedhros dance, or sing for that matter. And here he was, doing both. It was a far cry from Maglor's perfect singing. But it had a nice warm tone, and it was not too much out of key. Sitting completely still so Maedhros would not know he was awake, Fingon kept watching them, his beloved cousin, and his son. Knowing all too well his life would never be complete without one of them. He needed them both, he tilted his head, and blinked, it was really a shame that Maedhros never had any sons of his own. He would have been a splendid parent, but then, Fingon thought to himself. He had never met any rage from Fëanor; never had he really raised his voice against his own children. That elf was somewhat an enigma still; he could command grand battles, slaying his own kind of a whim. But he would never even raise a hand towards one of his own sons.  
  
Getting caught off guard, Fingon had not seen Maedhros turn, seeing him awake. Looking up, he saw his fire haired cousin light up in a brilliant smile. "Shh," he said, walking off with the now sleeping Ereinion.  
  
Fingon just closed his eyes once more, relishing the warmth from the fireplace, it had taken him months to move around like this, without any pain, and now spring was trying to break through. But the cold still lingered here, he did not know if it was in these halls or in its inhabitants. But it seemed like the stronghold itself had lost hope. As he heard Maedhros' soft voice ask if he was still sleeping. Opening his eyes slowly Fingon mumbled, "Not anymore," with a sly grin.  
  
"Did you just sit there and watch me embarrass myself?" Maedhros chuckled, sitting down on the floor with his back to the fire.  
  
"Of course, cousin," Fingon said still smiling.  
  
A wicked grin spread on Maedhros pale face. "If you tell, then I will tell you called for your mamma when I rescued you."  
  
"Ouch!" Fingon laughed, holding his hands over his heart. "That's cold."  
  
"I am the master of blackmail, remember?" Maedhros said, as he stood up, still grinning. "Care for a drink, cousin?"  
  
"Yes, please, oh master of blackmail," Fingon said, holding out his hand, taking the cup that Maedhros brought him. "I had forgotten that song you sang," he said casually. Knowing that Maedhros would know exactly what he was talking about. Fingon used to sing that song, as he would untangle his cousin's hair, in the aftermath of their youthful lovemaking.  
  
Maedhros just nodded and said with a sad voice, "It made him sleep didn't it?"  
  
"Indeed," Fingon said. After long moments of silence, and Maedhros stood behind him, Fingon turned and winched as the moment pulled in his scar across his left flank. "Maedhros?"  
  
"Aye," Maedhros said, looking concerned at his cousin. "Does the wound still cause you discomfort?" he said unable to hide how deeply troubled he was. Walking around Fingon again, he sat down on the floor in front of his cousin again.  
  
"A little," Fingon admitted. "I should lay off the gymnastics for some time," he tried to smile, but it did not reach his cousin.  
  
"Turning in a chair is hardly gymnastics," the red haired elf stated, taking a sip of his own cup. "You should go see the healers tomorrow morn-"  
  
"Yes, mother," Fingon said with a childish pout.  
  
This had Maedhros laughing. But his laughter soon died down, and he looked serious once more. "Cousin?" Maedhros ran a long finger along the brim of his cup. "Once you are well," he looked up at Fingon, who just sat in the rocking chair and watched him, "Will you... leave?" this was very hard for him to admit, that he had taken the wrong decision himself, and that he deep in his heart wanted nothing more than for Fingon to stay. Be they cursed or not.  
  
"If you want me to," Fingon whispered. A little smile tugged in the corner of his mouth, upon seeing Maedhros sitting there looking up at him, it made him look hundreds of years younger, and Fingon had never been able to resist this freckled face with the large green eyes. "Will you send me from your side a second time?" he said trying to hide the bitterness in his heart, which had his voice drip with sorrow.  
  
"No," Maedhros whispered looking down in his drink again. "Someday I hope you forgive me for the wrong I did you."  
  
"What is this?" Fingon said in a teasing tone. "Is this the former high king, eldest son of Fëanor begging for forgiveness?"  
  
Maedhros just nodded, not catching on to the teasing tone.  
  
"Oh, Maitimo," Fingon said, sliding from the chair landing on his knees on the floor in front of Maedhros. "You were afraid; you were broken in soul and body. I know this now." Looking into Maedhros' eyes that swam with tears, he continued, "I know what you did for me, Pitya told me. And love once more bloomed in my heart. I shall never love anyone as I love you." Fingon bit his lip, waiting for Maedhros' answer, afraid to be dismissed once more. The scars of the first time had never really healed.  
  
"Fingon," Maedhros whispered, leaving his cup on the floor, taking Fingon's and in his. "You must understand, I shall never heal. I will always carry," he took a deep sigh, finally looking Fingon in the eyes, "What they did to me, with me," he whispered.  
  
"I shall not claim to know your pain, but I wish you would let me ease it for you," Fingon said softly, placing his hand on top of Maedhros'.  
  
"I lost all," the red-haired elf whispered. "My family, my title, and my love." He smiled sadly as he looked up upon his cousin. "I am nothing anymore, but a shadow of the elf you loved."  
  
"Don't say that," Fingon whispered.  
  
Not thinking Maedhros lifted his arm stump to run his hand through Fingon's black hair. He smiled sadly as he realised his own mistake and let his arm fall to his lap again. "I can never be the lover you once knew, my heart," he said looking away again, getting uncomfortable. "But that don't mean you do not have my love."  
  
Fingon caressed his own cheek with Maedhros' left hand. "Maitimo," he whispered, "Your love always both thrilled and frightened me." Entwining his fingers with his cousins he leaned forward. "I am frightened no more."  
  
Without thinking Maedhros leaned forward too, meeting Fingon's soft lips. "I am," Maedhros whispered. "I am scared out of my mind," he said, feeling Fingon's lips curl up in a little smile.  
  
"Maitimo?" Fingon whispered. "Do you promise to never leave me behind again? I need you to be honest with me."  
  
"I would promise you this, and more. But there is no reason for you to believe me." Maitimo smiled sadly. "That is the brutal truth."  
  
"You rejected our word once before, true," Fingon said, grabbing the chain around his neck, pulling the fragile silver chain, breaking it with a snap, opening his hand, he revealed two silver rings. "I believe one of these are yours," he said, smiling a little timid smile. "Take it, and I shall never in my life doubt you once again." Reaching out Maedhros' hand hovered for a minute over the rings, trying to make up his mind; he couldn't forget that he had sent this across Beleriand for Fingon, this very ring! He had left instructions in his letter for Fingon to give it to his wife, yet he had never done so, should he be flattered to be offered this trinket once more, or feel like a betrayer? "Maitimo?" the dark haired elf whispered.  
  
Maedhros lifted his head and looked at Fingon, and shook his head. "Nay, this is not mine to wear anymore." Removing his hand from above Fingon's open palm, he whispered, "It never was."  
  
Fingon felt oddly defeated, but he understood Maedhros, it was a fantasy, they would never be able to wear these rings. "Is it true then?" Fingon whispered, his eyes swelling with tears. "...You truly have abandoned our love."  
  
Seeing Fingon's tears fall, Maedhros felt tears of his own sting. And his heart ached, seeing his cousin unhappy, those eyes should twinkle with joy, and his mouth should smile and laugh, not look as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He wanted to say something, but his voice failed him.  
  
Fingon wanted to get up and leave, flee Himring as if Morgoth himself were in his heels, but he didn't he sat there as glued to the floor, looking at Maedhros that couldn't even meet his eyes, and suddenly it felt like a bubble burst deep within him, and Fingon wept, for his love lost, for his home lost, for his wounded heart.  
  
Maedhros' mouth became a thin line, trying his hardest not to react; it would be wisest if he let Fingon go. But hearing the sobs rising from his cousin throat he suddenly pulled Fingon in for an embrace, waiting for his tears to subside. "Don't cry," he whispered.  
  
"Why not?" Fingon sniffled, wiping his eyes. Clinging on to his cousin in a desperate attempt to undo reality.  
  
"Because you are so very dear to my heart, and it pains me to see you despair and weep," Maedhros said, running his hand through the black hair of his cousin. "Our love was a dream, cousin. You and your son should journey back to your father, that would be the right thing to do."  
  
"And once more leave my heart behind, locked within these cold halls," Fingon whispered.  
  
"You should have fired your arrow back then," Maedhros said softly, darkly.  
  
Fingon didn't answer he just shook his head.  
  
"Would have saved you much heartache," Maedhros whispered.  
  
"Oh, Maitimo, why do you hate yourself so much that you won’t let anyone close," the dark-haired elf whispered. "You are already more dead than alive."  
  
These words broke through the wall Maedhros carefully had built around his heart trying to protect both him and Fingon. "Findekano," he whispered tenderly. "I love you. I shouldn't, it's beyond sense and reason, but by Eru, there is none I love more."  
  
Fingon squeezed Maedhros tighter, "That is all you need, why won't you believe me?"  
  
Maedhros sighed, and kissed Fingon on the top of his head. "We are in free fall towards our own doom, my love."  
  
Fingon let go of Maedhros and sat up, taking his cousin’s head between his hands, forcing the red haired elf to look at him. "Then let us fall." Looking into his cousins large green eyes, he whispered, "Maitimo, let me love you again."  
  
Swallowing hard Maedhros closed his eyes, expecting to see images of his tormentors from within Angband, but none came. Neither the taunting voice he had heard constantly. All gone, all he heard was Fingon's breath, and all he felt was his beloveds warm hands on his cheeks. "Yes," he whispered, feeling as Fingon's soft lips once more met his, no words needed. He knew they sealed their destinies with that kiss, maybe he lied to himself, and maybe they had sealed it already the first time they had kissed on those steep cliffs of Valinor.


	24. Nothing takes the past away, like the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that Gondolin should be completely sealed off by now. But if it were true in this story I would really have a problem, wouldn't I? And VOILA, the last chapter. Writing the epilogue I realised I could do like 7 sequels. And if I am bored I just might. The idea of Amrod's ending is really interesting. And yes let me warn you, I let them all have a very alternative end, I didn't bother to include who died when and how. I promised a happy end, and I tried to give one. Even if we all know that the Silmarillion is Shakespearian in its ending. Winterborn don't have to be. *smiles* thank you for reading this! I really appreciated all the fb I got! Thank you ever so much! And a special hug to those of you who wouldn't let me dump this story, I am actually really glad I got my act together and finished it!

Wordlessly Fingon took Maedhros' hand and guided them to his rooms, and Maedhros followed. A little nagging voice in the back of his head told him he shouldn't, that he should be the logical one. That he should be afraid, the consequences of this would be dire, he knew. The Valar had cursed him, and blessed his cousin, this was a match made in utopia. But still he soundlessly followed Fingon to his large four-poster bed. The fire was still going. And to Maedhros' surprise Fingon pulled him to the floor, wrapping his arms around him, and stared into the flames. "Amazing aren't they?" Fingon whispered.

Maedhros found that tears welled up in his eyes, happy tears. Feeling Fingon's arms wrapped around him, listening to his cousin's heart beat like they had just sprinted across a large field. Everything came back to him, the time they had spent in Tirion, the love they had shared before the world had gone mad. He knew that the shadows in his heart forged by his tormentors from Angband would never disappear completely. But here, in Fingon's arms, he found them to have silenced. "Stay with me," he whispered.

"For all eternity, should you wish it," Fingon whispered back.

Maedhros smiled, and leaned his head back on his beloved's shoulder. "Give me the ring," he breathed.

Fingon reached to his pocket and presented the rings once more. Maedhros made his way out of his cousin's hold and sat facing him instead, gently taking one of the rings. He gently pushed it unto Fingon's finger, waiting as Fingon did the same to him, entwining their fingers he whispered, "To whatever end."

"To whatever end," Fingon whispered back.

* * *

Maglor had spent two months at Turgon's service in Gondolin. True the city was as beautiful as he had imagined, it would all have been perfect, had it not been for the fact that a shadow had come over Maeglin's heart. Maglor did not understand, but the young elf hardly looked his way, he seemed preoccupied with the king's daughter. Preoccupied was not the right word. Obsessed was more like it. Maglor also had to admit she was a very stunning female, and fully understood why her beauty would dazzle Maeglin. But something was wrong. It was like the time they shared together no longer existed, Maeglin even called him 'lord Maglor'. And he had wept, bitter lonely tears, he should have known to let dead crows lie.

The only time he would see Maeglin was when he would tutor Idril. He wondered just how much Turgon knew; for he had sent him such sad gazes, as did he feel his heartbreak. And this morn he had stopped Maglor on his way for a lesson. Asking if he had sent word to his brothers and mother, they might worry. Maglor had nodded and said 'yes my king, I shall see it done, right away' and so this morning's lesson with Idril had been cancelled.

And now, now he found himself in front of Turgon's advisors door, clutching his letter to his family. He was indeed fortunate that he would be able to get a letter out, it did not happen often. Opening the door, he did not find the king's advisor, but a young elf. "Greetings," he said, "Can you tell me where the king’s advisor is; I am to give him this letter."

"Greetings," the other elf said. "I am afraid he is attending a meeting now, but you...You can leave this letter with me; I shall see to it that he gets it. Is there any message I can give him?"

Maglor smiled at the younger elf. "Tell him that Maglor was allowed a letter home, and that this should go straight to the next messenger out of here, to Himring."

The young elf's eyes widened, and he hurriedly bowed. "Lord Maglor, forgive me... I did not know it was you."

"How should you? We never met before." Maglor smiled as the younger elf straightened up once more, and gave him a shy smile. "And what might your name be then? I like to know whom I entrust my personal letters."

"Erestor, my lord," the younger elf said, bowing once more.

Maglor chuckled. And the young elf reached out a notably trembling hand to receive the letter. Seeing Erestor's discomfort, Maglor frowned. "What seems to be the problem, young master Erestor?"

"Forgive me, my lord," Erestor said with a timid voice. "It is just..."

"Just?" Maglor said, placing the letter in Erestor's hand.

"You are the Fëanorian, my lord" Erestor suddenly burst out "I had expected" he looked thoughtful for a moment "Something else."

Maglor laughed a deep roaring laughter. "Oh, young master Erestor, what had you expected?"

"Something more... Uhm... Sinister, sir," Erestor said blushing.

"Sinister, huh?" Maglor said "Something darker? More hateful? Maybe Bloodthirsty even..."

"Yes, my lord," Erestor whispered, fingering his own hair, not knowing what to do of his hands.

"Sorry to disappoint you, young master Erestor," Maglor chuckled, "I am but an ordinary elf, with an extraordinary bloodline."

Erestor didn't answer he just nodded, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"So while we wait for my fangs to grow, tell me young master Erestor, do you have any plans for supper?" Maglor said. Hoping the other elf would understand that he was trying to befriend him, he actually liked the little strange elf, if not anything else, Erestor had been honest, none but him had dared even breathe a word that had something to do with his family, other than the king. Who just in his own way, tried to make it less dishonourable for Maglor to return home.

"S...Supper?" Erestor stuttered.

"Yes" Maglor said softly, resisting the urge to be funny on the other elf's behalf. But honestly he found Erestor to be hilarious in his own way. Refreshing might be the word, all Maglor knew was that he had laughed more in these few minutes in Turgon's advisors study than he had for the months he had stayed in Gondolin.

"Yes, thank you, my lord. I shall join you for supper," Erestor finally said, with an amazingly even voice.

"Marvellous," Maglor said with a smile. "Come to my rooms later, I am sure you know where they are, gossip and all."

"...I do my lord," Erestor said, with a smile, blushing even more.

* * *

Feeling Fingon's naked skin against his own, was a feeling he had thought lost forever, but now that his beloved was laying here next to him, spent and sweating, with a little mysterious smile on his lips, it all came back to him. And the feeling of being home again was overwhelming. "I have to put more wood on the fire," he whispered, kissing Fingon's cheek as he slowly rose to his feet.

Fingon watched Maedhros feed the flames with more wood, "You are still beautiful," he whispered.

Maedhros who was still seated with his back to Fingon, carefully placing the wood, chuckled, "Even my scars?"

"Your scars are," Fingon searched for the right word, "intriguing."

The red-haired elf turned, looking at his lover with a grin. "Are you saying my scars arouse you?"

Fingon nodded, smiling a little embarrassed.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier, I would have maimed myself decades ago," Maedhros laughed, walking back to lay in his lovers arms.

"Oaf," Fingon chuckled wrapping his arms around his cousin again and sitting across Maedhros' abdomen.

"But an appealing oaf, apparently," Maedhros joked. Running his fingers over Fingon's face, as if he were mapping his lovers' features all over again. "It feels strange to be here with you, and I can't touch you like I used to," he whispered, smiling darkly.

Fingon returned the smile, knowing of Maedhros terrible feeling of being scarred and impaired, but he wouldn't allow the mood to darken, not now. They had but short time until Arien would rise and the household with it. This was their time, only theirs. "Maitimo, remember that day in the clearing? At my father's hunt?" he whispered huskily.

"Mmm, yes," Maedhros purred. "So perfectly decadent."

"Indeed," Fingon breathed, reaching back taking a hold of Maedhros' newly awakened erection. "You just had me once," he purred. "Claim me again, like you did that day."

Maedhros only let out a shuddering breath, as Fingon's expert hands guided his erection till it nudged against the dark haired elf’s guardian muscle. Maedhros grabbed Fingon's waist with his hand, pushing his lover down, engulfing his member. Gasping as his lover started to move, slowly riding himself to completion. He was a wonder to look upon, lost in his own reverie, Maedhros had a hard time realising this was not a dream, Fingon was here, impaling himself, riding him shamelessly, moaning, whispering, words of love that were only meant for him. This was a perfect blend of past and future, so warm and delirious. Feeling his groin tighten, Maedhros closed his eyes, tightening his grasp on Fingon's hip, thrusting upwards, hearing nothing but the urgent moans from his lover. Until Fingon suddenly gasped, arching his back and spent himself, losing his composition shuddering in his climax. Maedhros felt his lovers abandon, before he too lost his reality, following Fingon.

The dark haired elf collapsed on top of Maedhros, gasping for breath. "I won't be able to sit for days."

"Then," Maedhros chuckled, "I am sure I have need for you to go all the way to the mouth of Sirion with a parcel." Kissing Fingon, he added with a smile, "By horseback."

"Oh...oh... You are truly the son of a balrog!" Fingon exclaimed, biting Maedhros' lip teasingly.

 


	25. Epilogue

Maedhros dipped the quill in the ink, and wrote the date on a blank page in his journal, where to begin? He had not written in this journal for long. He flipped back in the pages and smiled, he remembered this day, the day when Maglor had returned, he had been thrilled to see his beloved brother again, but his brother had not returned alone, he had brought with him another elf, not a youngster of twilight as Maeglin, whom had possessed an unique beauty himself, but this other elf, Erestor. He had been the most exotic being Maedhros had ever seen, and he could understand why this young elf had captured his brother's heart and soul. He had been tanned golden, and his long dark brown hair had resembled polished teak, but he was sure that what had captured his brother had been the eyes, large slanted deep brown pools hidden behind lush lashes, these were the eyes of a muse, yes Erestor had indeed been a mythical creature. Even Amrod had warmed up to Erestor, they had not been that far apart in age, and thus had found themselves to enjoy the same things, they often went hunting for days, and Maglor had shone with love for his younger mate, he knew after speaking with his brother for long hours that Maglor still did not understand why he had been granted such luxury of love, but he had comforted him, and in the end Maglor had been content on just being alive, loving Erestor like every day were their last.  
  
Maedhros smiled at the memory, life had been good at Himring these days, and Fingon had been there. They had rekindled their love of old, not content on hiding in the shadows anymore; they had announced their love to the household. He had tried to capture this moment, make it last, but everything had changed in the moment a messenger had arrived with word for Fingon that his father had perished, he remembered Fingon had wept bitterly, and Maedhros himself had kneeled in front of his high king and lover, tears had flowed freely as he knew that this would mean that he would once more leave Himring, this was his curse, Fingon would have to break the wow they had made, because he now carried the burden of leadership upon his shoulders, and he could not afford being linked to the sons of Fëanor, or to an incestuous relationship with his cousin. He had cried, he had wept for what seemed days, and darkness had once more come to Himring. Watching Fingon leave together with the most valiant solders of Himring, and was the hardest he had ever done. Ereinion had sat in front of his father on the huge caramel coloured stallion, and his eyes had been large and frightened, all he had ever known was Himring, and the only family the child had ever known was they.  
  
Maglor had comforted Nerdanel as she had cried seeing the young child leave, and to his own surprise he had felt an arm wrap around his waist as well and had found Amrod leaning against him, this was a day of sorrow. Even now just thinking of it, tears came to Maedhros' eyes, but also a smile, for Fingon had not forgotten him, he had sent him long letters filled with longing and lust, he had kept them dear to his heart, knowing that even if the world would condone such a union, their love was true, never had Fingon forgotten him. And once the letters stopped Maedhros had known. Fingon the brave, loved by the Valar had perished, and his heart had broken, in anger he had buried himself in the anger that had lain dormant for so long, and had thrown himself into the search of the cursed gems with heart and soul. And his brothers had followed suit, even if he knew Maglor questioned the right they had, and even Maedhros' reasons for doing this, they had released an onslaught, killing everyone in their path, until they had encountered the haven of Sirion, he still remembered Eluréd's last words to him, this was where the last stones was. And so, every inhabitant there had paid dearly for Maedhros madness, anger and sorrow. They had not gotten their prize, but he had not really cared, all he knew was that he had released all the anger in him, and he still felt empty.  
  
Maedhros smiled bitterly to himself, he clearly remembered standing amidst dead bodies, his boots drenched with blood of his kin, he was so lost in his own rage that he had not even heard Maglor screaming in his face, he had not even registered that they had lost Amras in this battle, his precious little brother. Suddenly he had sensed movement to his left and had spun around to kill whoever was still alive, but Maglor had stopped his blow. And as he had looked down he had seen four pairs of large deep grey eyes looking up at him in fear. And his heart had sunk, what had he done? He had almost ended these children's life. Maglor had squatted down in the blood and had spoken softly to the frightened children, and Maedhros himself had just watched the scenario unfold, and he was not really surprised when he found to have a little child sleeping against his chest once they ventured home to Himring.  
  
Maedhros ran a finger over a drawing in his diary made by Elros. The twins, life had never been the same again, and for a moment they had all fooled themselves to believe that everything would be all right. They had also brought the dead body of Amras home, lighting his pyre proved too much for Nerdanel, and soon after she announced that she would leave. The twins had been devastated for they had taken a liking to the smiling red haired she elf with the gentle voice. But her mind was made up, and soon after she travelled to Lindon, to be with an old acquaintance of hers, Círdan had remained unwed and she was sure he could use a feminine touch in his household. Luckily Amras' wife had born them no children, and his wife chose to leave Himring and start a new life with some elves she knew far away by the river of Legolin. Not that he had cared, he had never even bothered to actually know what the she elf was named, but he somehow envied her the chance of a new life. When Amrod had volunteered to accompany her there, he had known that this had been Pitya's ticket out of here, he would not return for many years, he knew this, he could see it in his eyes, he had lost his twin, the only thing in this world that had mattered to Amrod.  
  
Maedhros flipped the page, and encountered the empty one he had begun before. He could hear Maglor mumble in his sleep, he turned and watched his brothers sullen face, all song had left Maglor along with Erestor, the tune had died on his lips when his muse had disappeared into the horizon, and now he knew, Maglor waited for death, for the nothingness it would bring, he knew this, because he himself shared his dream.  
  
Celebrimbor, who had been dear to them, had travelled to see Caranthir but on his way he had stumbled across another party, and there the young elf had lost his heart. Maedhros had read many letters from his nephew describing his young bride, and he was sure she must be extraordinary. She a Sindar elf had fallen in love with a Noldo, and not any Noldo but a descendant of Fëanor, the kin slayer. He knew from the letters that they had chosen to reside hidden, and start their family there, but his heart had wept as he had seen the young elf in burning phrases explain his dedication to the cause, and his willingness to return should his uncles need him in battle. Maedhros hoped that their curse didn't extend to Celebrimbor, and that the poor elf would be allowed to live out his life in obscurity with his loving wife at his side.  
  
"Maitimo?" Maglor whispered from his bedroll, having watched Maedhros in thought for a while. "Won’t you come sleep?"  
  
"No" Maedhros answered in a hushed voice "I cannot find rest this night" he heard Maglor sigh and turn on the bedroll. And he once more picked up the quill, Erestor; yes he should start with Erestor. The beautiful elf had filled Maglor's life with much joy, and he had never seen his brother this virile and happy since before their banning from Tirion, before their fathers madness had caught up with them all. The twins had grown into fine elves, and the peace had lasted for long, Maedhros knew it wouldn't last, and when he heard news of an upcoming battle, he had chosen to send the twins from their side, their fate was not entangled with the Fëanorians, and thus they had decided to send them to Nerdanel, she would guide them well in the future. He remembered bringing them the news at the dinner table in the cold halls of Himring, Both Elrond and Elros had been devastated, this had been their home, and their frightened grey eyes gave him an unwelcome flashback to Ereinion as he left with his father. But they had obliged to Maedhros' wish. That night had been the coldest he could remember in all his long years receding in Himring, even the fireplace did not warm him as he comforted Maglor until dawn, his brother had in his heart realised that he would have to send Erestor with the twins, he would be an valuable asset to the young elves, he had looked up at him with the most heartbreaking gaze, and he had wept for his brothers lost love, cursed their stupidity when they had flung themselves out on this lonely quest, the curse was strong, and they both knew that the next time the two of them rode out from Himring, what had been their home for so many millennia it would be the last time. In their hearts they knew that it was a suicide mission to try and claim the Silmarils from Morgoth. And so, they had watched Erestor ride away with Elros and Elrond, and the last tiny pieces of hope of a future they had nestled in their hearts.  
  
And then... Maedhros dipped his pen and sighed, yes, then had Amrod returned, Maglor and he had rejoiced at their brothers return, they had been most curious as to where he had been, and Pitya had explained that he had lost his heart on the road, and so he had bonded himself by a bond of the heart to stay at the man's side until he left for the halls of his forefathers, and he had. The man had expired for weeks ago .he had burned him according to elven customs, he had realised he knew nothing of the customs regarding the dead in the world of men. He had also known in his heart he must return and for one last time ride out with his brothers. Maedhros had summoned Caranthir, whom had appeared days later. They had all stayed at Himring for a month more, before they finally had left, Most of the soldiers had left with Erestor, Elrond and Elros, they had been eager to serve the new high king who dwelled in Lindon for the time being.  
  
The last ride from Himring still made Maedhros teary eyed, he had loved that place, it had been a sanctuary in insane times, and a prison at other. He had looked at his remaining three brothers whom had looked just as saddened as him, but he also saw the same grim determination in their eyes as he felt in his heart. He had wished he could say something comforting; that they would find the peace in death that they had not known in life, he knew it was a lie. They would not be joined with their loved ones in the halls of waiting; they would burn as brightly as their father, and return to nothing. They had but this life, what he would not give to hold his beloved cousin just once more, he had often entertained himself with dreams of the Valar taking pity upon them and their bruised souls, that he would be reunited with Fingon on the white shore of Aman, that he would have been given his body from before his imprisonment, he knew that Fingon must dream the same, if a soul dreamt in the halls of Mandos, or maybe the doomsman of the Valar would be kind to Fingon and lessen his burden, letting him stay in this dream for all eternity.  
  
Maedhros sighed and put his pen down. Blowing out the candle he heard Maglor mumble in his sleep, and Amrod grind his teeth. This was all there was left, all they had was each other, everything had been taken from them, lovers, brothers and friends. All according to the Valar's curse, Maedhros still thought about Maglor's words the other day, he had argued that they should find a way to return to the white shores, and beg for mercy, surely the Valar would be lenient, but Maedhros was not so sure, they both knew that no ship would take them there.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment 2015: Oh mah lawd there is a lot of crying elves and forgotten plotlines and change of pace... hahaha oh well, it is what it is =) I still think it's a decent story.

**Author's Note:**

> Wooot!! The first chapter, it's a rather odd and complex plot here, but hey it's not the strangest thing you have ever seen from me. I don't know what else to say right now. Quite a large part of the plot is canon; I chose to stick to it wherever it was possible. - And now for the explanations. When elves gave their children names back then, they both gave them a mothers and fathers name, fathers name was the one they were called, and mothers name was related to their spirit, as in the name fit the temperament of the child, these names was often slightly prophetic. Amrod's fathers name (they are of course all in Quenya) is Pityafinwë«, loosely translated to smallest/youngest Finwë«, and this is why I chose him to be the char he is, and this is why the others call him Pitya. Amras' mothers name is Amrussa, this refers to his red hair *laughs* and so I saw Russa as fit. I do not mention his freckles in this chapter but I will later and so I will dismiss it here, my own father was red-haired, and I was so lucky as to be born with a red-haired complexion, and thus I KNOW red-haired people/elves have freckles, cuz I say so. I know Nerdanel did not go with Fëanor to middle earth, in my fic she did!


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